


The Chronicles of a King and a Scribe

by silverneko9lives0



Series: Chronicles of a Warrior and a Burglar [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Books, But what else is new?, Conspiracy, Courtship, Dori is awesome, Dwarf Courting, Erebor's Library, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Heartbreak, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nori is a Little Shit, Ori is adorable, Siblings, Starting Over, Trolling, when he's not being a little bit BAMF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coping with a broken heart is difficult enough without being King. However, no one truly falls in love when love cannot be returned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He kissed his lips…His neck…His chest…

Soft moans escaped mouths. Deft fingers laced through his hair. He pulled the fingers away, kissing them each gently before returning to the being beneath him.

Soft, gentle, beautiful…

_Not his._

He woke, staring at the ceiling. He sighed, covering his eyes with his forearm. “This has to stop,” he whispered to no one. “This has to stop.”

He lowered his arm, resigning himself to the day ahead like he had every day before since Bilbo and Dwalin left six months ago. Thorin swallowed, trying to rid the lump in his throat. He gasped for breath.

 _Fight it down_ , he thought. _Fight it down_.

He swung his legs over the side and stood, walking to the wash room, mindful of his broken arm. He splashed his face with cold water. Someone knocked, catching his attention.

Thorin moved carefully to the door with sore muscles. The door swung open and Dis arched an eyebrow. “You look like Warg-food.”

Thorin managed a smile. Leave it to Dis to cheer him up. “Well, no one is a fresh bouquet of flowers in the morning,” he reminded her, “Least of all me; _definitely_ not you.”

Dis rolled her eyes, pushing her way into the room. “Sit at the dresser and I’ll fix that rat’s nest on your head.” Thorin knew better than to disobey. He sat and let Dis run her fingers through his hair. “So, will you tell me why you skimped on your best friend’s wedding?”

Thorin ignored her. She asked every morning, hoping to get an answer out of him as no one else had one to give her. No explanation whatsoever.

“Well, I’ve observed enough to probably put it together,” she said, weaving his hair into braids.

“Dis, just don’t.”

She clasped the braids with silver beads shining against his ebony hair. “So, was it Dwalin’s husband? Because if it was Dwalin, you’d have married him long before Bilbo showed up.”

Thorin sighed. Dis sat down at the table. “Brother, look at me.” Thorin did. “There is no point in giving away your heart to someone whose heart is already taken. No one really gives their love to someone who will not reciprocate it.”

He knew that. It didn’t stop the wishing and especially not the lusting.

“Fine,” he said. “I love him and I know it was…”

Dis crossed her legs.

“What happened?” she asked, voice soft and motherly. It’s the voice she used when the boys were young and came home crying. Kili, being a bit of a runt as a child, often found his way into Dis’ arms after larger children, Men and Dwarves both, took to bullying him.

Thorin didn’t appreciate it. “I fell in love. Does it matter what the details are beyond that?”

Dis cocked her head to the side.

“I fell in love with someone I can never have and I know it is tearing me apart. Condescending me—”

“Calm down, Thorin,” Dis snapped, sounding more like herself. “I did not mean to belittle you. I only want to help. You think no one’s noticed? You’re good, granted. Only a few are suspicious and you don’t let it affect your work. No one will charge you that.”

“If you have a point, make it.”

“Balin is suspicious. And now I know what was wrong.” Dis sighed. She stood and embraced Thorin. “Take the day off.”

“Can’t.”

“Thorin, you may be doing well, but this is killing you and you know it. Take the bloody day off or I’ll make you. I can handle the kingdom for a day. Get some fresh air or whatever it is you do.” Dis smiled, promise in her eyes.

Thorin shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“You can. And you will. Do what you need to, but your heart sickness will only get worse if you don’t let it go.”

“And _how_ do you suppose I let it go?” Thorin snapped. “Is there some sort of remedy you know of that will make me forget?”

“Thorin, the pain will go away but you have to let it go. Take the day to relax. It won’t take a day to get rid of the pain, but perhaps you can…” Dis silenced. “Just take the day off. Do whatever you like, _except_ work. If you need anything, I’ll be in the throne room in your place.”

She stood and hugged him, kissing the top of his head. Dis closed the door behind her, leaving Thorin in the room alone.

He focused on breathing.

_It began in that foyer, just big enough to admit him without much trouble, staring at the Hobbit before him. The green eyes bore into him, showing how tired he really was. Taunting him wasn’t helpful. Thorin knew that._

_The contract was signed almost as soon as Bilbo finished reading it, fainting spell aside.  When Bilbo’s lack of family to travel with him came to light, marriage became the only option to allow him to fulfill the contract. Thorin did not know at the time he had hoped it’d be him the Hobbit would chose. He didn’t realize he held his breath when the Hobbit walked into the room._

_And stood before Dwalin, asking him to marry him…_

Thorin stood and dressed. A difficult feat with one hand, but he dealt with similar injuries from the forge and battle field. He considered himself a natural at dressing with one hand.

Once reasonably presentable he left his room, deciding if he wasn’t allowed to work for the day and (given the state of his arm) he couldn’t go to the forges, he could spend time in the library. At least in the refurbished area now open to the public.  

The path cleared for him. Every passing Dwarrow bowed low with a soft respectful chorus of “your majesty.” Thorin ignored each gesture, barely hearing them.  

He opened the library doors and entered, eyes taking in the sight of books lining each and every wall. Ballads, poetry, history—all lining the walls in thick, heavy, leather tomes. Desks lined one beside the other with scribes copying and remaking each book yet to join the throng of books. There were scholars and teachers and _juzrâlh_ selecting books to further their studies. Thorin walked down the aisles one at a time, finger tracing the leather bindings stamped in Khuzdul and some in Westron.

He paused at one book, brow furrowed and pulled it off the shelf.

In the straight runes of Khuzdul it read: _Hurmulkezer u Sigin-tarâg._

Of course. A history of Erebor. Or perhaps Moria. He was not completely sure. He pulled it off the shelf and flipped through the pages carefully so not to attract the librarians wrath. There was a new entry:

 _Gugûn u Sigin-tarâg_.

It detailed the quest with such accurate detail and in full from the moment back in the Shire to Thorin’s coronation. Thorin had heard of their scribe’s talent, but had yet to bear witness to it. Talent perhaps was an understatement. He lived through the adventure, yet Ori’s details were crisp and engaging.

The passage after was—

Thorin’s chest constricted.

Why Ori felt fit to write about this, he did not know. He could not fault the lad. It’s not like he knew it would hurt him. He doubted Ori ever intended to hurt anyone. The scribe didn’t have a malicious bone in his body.

Still to write _this_? To write Dwalin and Bilbo’s story?  He closed the book and massaged his head, slouching in his seat. He closed his eyes.

The image was fading, but he could still distinctly name the shade of his hair and the color of his eyes. He wanted to see him smile again. He wanted to see the light in those eyes and the sun shine off copper hair. He wanted to feel his soft skin and the fur on his feet. He wanted to hear his voice whether in laughter or song.

He wanted so much, but could never have. True he was a king. He could have stolen Bilbo from Dwalin and it’d have been in his power to do so, but Thorin had always been horrified when he learned of other rulers doing the same, stealing wives and lovers under the noses of other men as though it was a god-given right and not a thievery. To him, a king who does such a thing does not deserve to be a king.

It still didn’t stop him from wanting, of course. But that, he supposed, was beside the point.

“Your majesty?”

He opened his eyes. Ori frowned. “Are you well? Shall I call for Oin?”

“No,” Thorin said, sitting up. “I’m fine. Just…a little tired.”

No need to tell the lad his work upset him. Ori was a great scribe and had undeniable talent with the quill. Besides, the only one affected is Thorin. Others will read it and probably think it…

Romantic?

Thorin didn’t really want to think about it or care. He handed the book to Ori, who hugged it to his chest, head tilted to the side.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Sire?”

“I know my condition better than others. I am fine, Ori,” Thorin snapped.

Ori frowned rather than cowered, never breaking eye contact with Thorin. He shrugged, putting the book back.

“If you say so, your majesty,” he replied. “I’m afraid we don’t allow people to sleep in the library. Not even the king. There’s too much to be done—”

“At least remember who you speak to, Ori.”

“I _know_ who I am speaking to,” Ori said, still frowning. “But I am not going to let that stop me from doing my job. King or not, I am honor-bound to keep the library in an orderly fashion.  You are welcome to borrow the books so long as they are returned in the condition they were taken. But we do not allow people to simply fall asleep here as they wish. Not even the king. All right?”

Thorin stared at him, speechless. He wasn’t even sleeping! Not even about to fall asleep! He only said he was tired! What did he do or say that seemed so offensive to the scribe before him that merited being kicked out of the library?

Ori sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” 

_That was him losing his temper? _

“No, it’s fine,” Thorin said, still a bit shocked. “You’re quite daring, Ori. And honest. I like that. Thank you.”

“You can trust us, Thorin,” Ori said, his smile returning. “We do care about you even if you are unsure. If you ever need a friend, well,” he waved around. “This is my own domain.”

“I will keep that in mind. I probably _should_ go. Who knows what Dis is doing in my absence?”

“Probably bringing chaos to the order you’ve worked to achieve.”

Thorin smiled. “Most likely. I hope the rest of the day is productive.”

“I’m a scribe. A day at a desk tends to be productive regardless of it being good or bad.”


	2. Chapter 2

He doesn’t know what sends him back to the Library three days after his encounter with Ori. He didn’t even feel like reading, really, but books…he supposed…were a good distraction. He still felt he was going through motions.

And yet…

“Your majesty,” the tenants and guests within the library exclaimed, bowing to Thorin as he passed by. Only Ori had not seen him or paid him attention. And no one had bothered to point it out to Ori that the King had come into the library.

In fact, no one seemed to notice Ori at all.

How could that be? Thorin broke his stride down the hall toward Ori. He stopped. _What am I doing?_ He asked himself. He hadn’t anything to say to the Scribe.

Ori glanced at him, bowed, and continued to work, giving him no more recognition than that. Others would have thought it disrespectful to merely _nod_ at the King.

Thorin wondered where Ori got his daring. He didn’t seem so sure of himself to Thorin during the quest. Perhaps there was more to the Scribe than Thorin had thought before.

Thorin closed a little more distance between them. “Ori.”

Ori looked up at him again. “Yes?”

“Are there any books you suggest?” 

He blinked, as though he had not heard right, then smiled.

“Follow me, your majesty.”

He led Thorin to a shelf.

“We are still searching for more Dwarfish fiction, but this is what we managed to find. Most people, sadly, prefer nonfiction.” He climbed a ladder attached to the shelf and climbed, a few minutes passed before he selected a book and climbed down. “Here,” he handed the book to Thorin.

 _Muzm Narag-zâramaz_ , “The Beast of the Black Pool,” By Naith.

“It’s a horror story,” Ori explained. “So I wouldn’t suggest reading it at night.”

“I think I’ve lived through enough battles to know horror when I see it,” Thorin assured him. “Besides, so long as I can forget, I’ll be fine.”

“Forget?”

Thorin shifted his eye from the cover to look up at Ori.

“Nothing,” he said. “Where do I check it out?”

“There is a ledger in the front,” Ori explained, “Write your name, and the title and which section it’s from, which is FHn300.”

Thorin nodded, thanking him and left the library, tucking the book under his arms.

#

_The beast pinned Terith down, claws carving divots into her skin. Her eyes bugged, watering with unshed tears. One hand scratched the earth for something to aid her escape while the other slipped along the beast’s scales—_

“Thorin?”

Thorin jumped, dropping the book. He glared at Fili, who fought back his grin.

“Did I frighten you?”

“No. I was startled. Not frightened. I am a hard one to frighten.”

“Sure,” Fili said. He held a letter out to Thorin. “It’s from Dwalin.”

Thorin’s jaw tightened and his teeth ground together. Someone had to write a proverb about why best friends should never fall in love with the same person at some time. They may have parted in friendship, but Thorin felt only resentment for Dwalin.

He held his hand out for the letter and ripped the envelope open. They were well, though social calls were tedious on both (apparently the Shire had more than its fair share of cougars, poor Dwalin. Thorin tried to feel remorseful. And failed).

Thorin set the letter down, refusing to read more. He did not close his eyes and he knew he ought to return to the book’s pages. He didn’t pick the book back up and dared not even blink.

“Uncle?”

Thorin turned to Fili, swallowing hard. “They are well. It’s frivolous. Nothing of import.”

Fili frowned, seizing the letter.

“They want to know if Erebor is willing to open trade relations. Winter is approaching and already the air is growing cold there. They fear another Fell Winter may come and they desire a small army to help protect the land from wolves.” He set the letter down, frowning. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Thorin? It is not like you to push aside the call of a friend.”

“If there is anyone to be spared, send them,” he sighed, massaging his head. Fili narrowed his eyes. It was odd how he resembled his father, but often reminded Thorin of his mother when it suited him.

“Uncle, are you well?”

“You are as nosy as your mother,” Thorin growled. “Leave me be, Fili.”

“Thorin—”

“I SAID LEAVE!!!” Thorin roared.

Fili returned Thorin’s glare, but bowed and left. Thorin sighed, wincing at the slammed door. He leaned back in his chair, the book resting on his lap and the letter left on the floor.

He stood, resting the book on the table beside him, picking up the letter.

_…Winter is fast approaching and the Hobbits are panicking. Bilbo believes they are afraid of another Fell Winter and they are worried there will be more killings if nothing is done. The Thain requested we ask Erebor for aid through the winter, just in case it’s harsher than we expect it to be…_

The letter crumpled in his hands. Thorin stood, marching to the fire. He paused, parchment in hand and he wondered how long he would remain angry at Dwalin for something neither of them expected to happen. Thorin _wanted_ to be happy for his friend. His _best friend_.

He did not intend to fall in love with Bilbo and yet he had and he wished he had never stepped foot into the Hobbit Hole…had never laid eyes on him…had never honored tradition…never allowed him to choose…

But perhaps it was for the best. For all that he claimed to love Bilbo, it did not break through the madness that had nearly killed him and everyone he cared for. Not until he had realized what he had done and in his fury took his anger out on Dwalin.

_Who ought to have stopped me!_

_Why didn’t he stop me?_

In the end, it seemed no one could really be worthy of someone as noble as Bilbo Baggins. He still chose Dwalin; fell in love with Dwalin and stayed with him, faithful to the end.

It was not fair.

Was he not a king? Could he not provide more or better for the Hobbit?

Still, he had chosen Dwalin and with Dwalin remained. Thinking of Dwalin holding Bilbo and kissing him— _making love to him—_ churned Thorin’s stomach and his heart felt as though a thousand needles had been jabbed into it.

It simply hurt too much.

He tossed the parchment into the fire and returned to his seat. He tried to draw back into the book, but it did not pull him as it did before. So he stood and paced the room, arms crossed, eyes on the floor, muttering under his breath a prayer for release, for aid, for a cure.

_Anything._

Someone knocked on the door, drawing his attention away. He headed to the door, opening it a crack. Dis arched an eyebrow at him.

“Fili returned home looking quite furious and is saying you are being inattentive. Is this true?”

“A letter from Dwalin arrived. I may have…” He didn’t finish the sentence, a lump forming in his throat. “I threw it in the fire a few minutes ago.”

Dis’ gaze softened. “May I come in?”

Thorin opened the door wider to emit her.

Dis embraced him when the door had closed. “I am sorry, Nadad.”

“I feel I am breaking apart.”

“You’re heartbroken. The healing does not come easily, but it will come. And I’m here with you, Thorin, as I always have. I love you, Nadad. And your nephews love you too. They are worried about you, Thorin.”

“I don’t want them to know.”

“To know what? That their uncle can feel? They already know. They will not fault you for falling in love. It would actually answer their questions, I think. Questions they have been wanting answers to for a long time. They know you do not mean to be cross with them, but Fili especially is tired of being treated like a child and is now feeling rather cross with you. Perhaps if you tell him at least.”

“If I tell him, then Kili will find out eventually. To tell one, I may as well tell the other. I do not think they’ll be as understanding as you, Namadith.”

Dis released him, patting his back. “They will understand more than you believe they will, Thorin. Would you like some tea? The kitchens are still open and if you like I can send for something.”

Thorin shook his head.

“All right,” Dis patted his back again. “Get some rest and you are to take the day off again tomorrow.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to take the throne from me, Dis.”

Dis shrugged, smiling. “Well, I’m not, but if you don’t get yourself together soon, I may have to act as regent and send you on holiday for a while.”

Thorin frowned. “Don’t you dare,” he growled.

“Then I suggest you pull yourself together. Rest and regain your strength. Find something to aid you in healing your heart. And if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me.”

“I do not cry.”

“Yes you do. You just don’t want anyone to know it. Goodnight, Thorin. Try to rest. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow.” Dis kissed his forehead and left.

Thorin returned to the seat. The book’s edge lay just off the table beside him. Dare he read again? Try to, at least? He picked the book back up and found his place.

_… One hand scratched the earth for something to aid her escape while the other slipped along the beast’s scales. Her efforts were futile._

_She prayed for Cir, wherever he may be. But no aid came. She choked for breath. The beast opened his unhinged jaws, two great fangs dripping with poison and saliva._

_Terith could not scream, her final breath squeezed from her throat and ribs._

Thorin shuddered. Being eaten alive by a giant water-snake…there were worst fates, he knew, but this chilled his blood.

Ori’s tastes were rather odd, Thorin decided.

 _Maybe I’ll take this back and ask him if there’s any adventure stories rather than horror_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erebor’s library call system: F=fiction, H=Horror, n=Naith (author's initial), 300=call number
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Nadad=Brother  
> Namadith=Little Sister


	3. Chapter 3

“I did warn you not to read at night, Sire,” Ori said, placing the book on a truck. He was smirking. Thorin thought he looked most like his second elder brother when he did.

Which wasn’t very comforting, when Thorin thought about it. It gave Ori the appearance of knowing something Thorin didn’t. Nori tended to smirk like that more than he needed to. And probably _did_ know things Thorin didn’t.

“You did,” Thorin agreed gruffly, following Ori into another section. The books were marked FA, following their author’s initial and call number. Ori climbed a ladder, finger tracing the spines before selecting a book.

 _Agúmul Azayiaz_ , “The Age of the Sea,” by Hurm.

“It’s about pirates.”

“Dwarves do not take to the sea, Ori.”

“I never said the pirates were Dwarves, Thorin. At least read it before you make any final calls about the story. This author is a favorite of mine. You may like the way she writes.”

Thorin sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

He and Ori left the aisle, heading to the reception desk. The elderly Dwarf there tensed when Thorin arrived and wrote his name and the call number (FAh169.2).

“Though…a part of me wonders…why you were never like this on the quest.”

“Like what?”

“Talkative.”

“Well you weren’t talking to me, were you, Sire? Ask your nephews and my brothers. I’m an introvert, but once I start talking, I can’t really stop…Bilbo and I talked about books a lot. It’s a pity he and Dwalin left. We could have had so much information on Hobbits! It’d be a subject we’d beat even Rivendell in! Even you can’t say no to that.”

“Well, no, I can’t,” Thorin agreed, chuckling. “Why though?”

“There’s next to no information about Hobbits, your majesty. We’ve books on books about the race of Men, Elves, and Dwarves, but to get _anything_ on Hobbits in books, one has to go to Rivendell and even there’re only three books and so that leaves talking to a Hobbit. Bilbo could have given us books on nearly everything a body would like to know about his race. He could do it too…maybe he still could, but I doubt he’d send volumes this far…”

Thorin hummed. “You could write to Bilbo and ask.”

“I would if I had the time!”

“Then get some time.”

“I’m afraid my task master is hard.”

Thorin frowned. “Why have you a task master? You ought to be the head of the library given all you’ve done on the quest.”

“Which, honestly, isn’t much. All I did was record what was done. It’s not nearly enough to win real recognition. It’s only been a few months since I gained a journeyman status, so I’m not quite considered a full-fledged scribe.”

_What nonsense is this?!_

“Ori I read what you wrote. You _should_ be a scribe by now.”

“And I’d rather _earn_ my position rather than bypass everyone who’s already ahead of me.”

“Why didn’t you have your apprenticeship under Balin then?”

“Because Balin, until quite recently, was too expensive for me,” Ori admitted. “My family’s wealth now, Sire, is solely because of the quest. We’ve always been near to nothing as far as income which is why Nori took to thievery. Dori put up with it, but didn’t like it. He left it alone so long as no one came knocking and Nori’s too good for that.

“Unless it was Dwalin, but Dwalin and Nori were unusually on par with each other in both wit and power. Even when Dwalin was right about Nori having committed a certain crime he could never find the proof to fully convict him. Especially since it was mostly gold and food that he stole. And partook in a couple of cons…

“To be honest, Sire, Nori’s a little at a loss with what to do with his time these days since he doesn’t have to steal anymore.” Ori gasped, clapping his hand over his mouth, and blushed. “Sorry. Like I said, once I’m talking I can’t seem to shut up.”

Thorin managed a smile. “I don’t mind. You’re an easy lad to talk to once you climb out of your shell. Thank you for the book,” he said, holding it up awkwardly.

“You’re welcome. I should…” Ori scooted toward the library door.

“Of course. Have a good day, Ori.”

“You too, Thorin. Oh! Be sure to read the prologue.”

He entered the library and the door closed behind him. The thud echoed off the walls. Outside it, everything felt cold and suffocating. Thorin felt he entered a completely different world whenever he stepped into the library.

He probably did.

Thorin headed back to his room, deciding to have dinner brought to him so he could read, flipping through the dry pages.

_…hands pulled at the shackles._

_“Now then, Lass—”_

_“Eruwaedhiel,” she growled, heart thumping in her chest…_

Thorin hummed. _This may be interesting_ , he thought, closing the book and tucking it under his arm.

#

“…We’re still working out trade agreements with the Men,” Kili said, flipping through the papers.

If Thorin was told that his younger nephew was _capable_ of settling down and doing work, he’d had laughed. Seeing it for his own eyes, on the other hand, merely made him puff up with pride.

“The winter is proving to be harsher this year than in previous ones…”

“How will that affect us?”

“Namely only in food,” Kili sighed, yawning. “But if we can also make agreements with the Southern countries—Rohan and Gondor, for instance…I don’t know about Ecthelion, but Thengel might be willing…winters aren’t as harsh in the South and Rohan is known for its farming…”

“What about Dwarves? The Iron Hills are closer than Rohan and Gondor.”

“Would we be able to trade in food with them? Clothes and goods, sure, but they don’t have ranches, Thorin. We need cattle and sheep, which at this moment is limited in Dale and Laketown. The only proper meat they have in abundance is fish. Our other option would be to hunt in the forest and the Elves will not allow it. Personally, given how we’re still trying to make most of Erebor _inhabitable_ again, I’d rather not start a skirmish with the Wood Elves.”

Thorin nodded. That idea didn’t sound good to him either.

“Send word to Rohan then,” Thorin said. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to make agreements with them before winter, but we can at least let them know we’re interested in trading with them.”

“And Gondor?”

“The Men of Gondor are arrogant. Erebor and Gondor never got along. Throw Ecthelion, Thranduil, and me in a room, we’re more likely to kill each other rather than come to an agreement of any sort. Thengel, however…I’ve been to Rohan when Thengel was still a lad.”

“Right…didn’t they recognize you?”

“They did. I did mean to return. Never got around to it though…” Thorin sighed. His time in Rohan was good. He didn’t expect it to be, but when he was setting up a forge, a group of golden haired children stared at him.

_“Are you Thorin son of Thrain?” one of the lads asked. Thorin turned to the boy. The fine clothes he wore and the crest etched into the left side of his tunic named him a Prince. He grinned. “I’m Thengel. You shouldn’t be here eking a living. Come to Edoras. My father will welcome you…”_

It was a long time ago. The little boy he met was a grown man and king now, probably married with children of his own.

“I’ll write a letter to Thengel,” Kili said. A scribe following them quickly took note of it.

“Introduce yourself to him as a prince of Durin’s line,” Thorin reminded him. “And send it to Balin for review before sending it.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Kili bowed and left with the scribe dogging his steps, cradling the ledger in her hands. Thorin watched him leave, a smile curving at the corner of his lips.

If only Kili applied himself as he did these days _earlier_ rather than be a mischievous little twit half the time. He’d be a good advisor to Fili when the time came. It was a rare feeling, as the one where he thought his people would be doomed seemed prevalent whenever the newest disaster his nephews caused reached his ears.

Thorin’s stomach protested his four-hour fast and he decided to have lunch brought to his office as his mind shifted to more important matters. Winter wasn’t going to be easy in the East any more than it would be in the West.

There wasn’t much Erebor could trade in at the moment, save for gold which was still in heavy abundance. Useful if trade with the Men went through. Not so much if they manage to settle agreements with the Shire.

(Though, protection seemed to be reason enough…)

Thorin turned the corner and skidded to a halt.

“Pardon me,” Ori said, clutching a book to his chest. “Oh. Hello, your majesty.”

“No one’s around to see, Ori. Though, if they were, they’d probably call you out for not bowing.”

Ori pursed his lips together. “True, but I think of us as friends and why should I bow to a friend regardless of his standing?”

Thorin laughed. “Very true. I would be annoyed if you started bowing to me even if there were no people to witness your manners.”

“Dori would balk.”

“Let him,” Thorin said. Ori walked beside him. “You’re an adult and neither of your brothers have the right to tell you how to live your life or how to act.”

“Try telling Dori that. He can’t seem to grasp that I’m not in diapers anymore most days.”

“He’s the eldest of you three. If he’s going to be a little overprotective, he’ll tend to be so in an over the top way.”

“You seem to know…”

“I was the eldest of three. Dis, however, had it much harder than you do. As much as I love my nephews I never really thought their father was good enough for their mother. When she was pregnant with Fili, I couldn’t deny certain things anymore no matter how much I’d have liked to. Regardless, I _did_ try to castrate her husband after that. Víli went into hiding for a few weeks while Dis kicked my ass to Aulë’s forge and back.”

Ori grinned. “I can see her doing that. Lady Dis is resourceful when she wishes to be.”

“That’s…one way to put it…”

“Though in all respect, you _did_ threaten to castrate her husband. You’d not have Fili or Kili if you did.”

“Oh, I’d have Fili. Kili, though…Some days I do wonder about him, but he’s stepped up quite nicely.”

“He is smarter than he looks and acts. Do you think he’d be able to prank people so much and usually get away with it if he wasn’t?”

Thorin shook his head. “I suppose not.” The clock struck and Ori gasped. “What is it?”

“I’m supposed to be home right now.”

“Dori?”

“Yes.”

“Again, you are an adult, Ori. You need not listen to every demand Dori makes.”

“Try telling _him_ that,” he grouched, turning on his heel and running down the corridor. Thorin crossed his arms. How tight of a leash to the brothers Ri have on Ori, really? Thorin wondered if he should be worried…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Ori selected? Yes. It’s actually Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl adapted for a Middle Earth setting.


	4. Chapter 4

“Where are you going?”

Thorin stopped mid-stride. He turned to face Dis, whose arms were crossed over her chest and mouth curved into a frown.

“The library.”

“Mm-hmm. I wonder why?”

Thorin held up _Tunzul-menem_ , “Pit of the Offspring of Bugs,” by Shawe. “I can’t very well _not_ return a book. I doubt the scribes would be very happy with me if I did.”

“So it has nothing to do with a Scribe catching your attention?”

“What?” Thorin asked, affronted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Dis. Books have been rather…wonderfully distracting. From everything.”

“Mm-hmm,” Dis tapped her foot on the stone. “So it has nothing to do with seeing Ori son of Riika? Who just so happens to be my boys’ closest friend and companion? And has two brothers, one strong enough to even make _you_ look wimpy and the other so wily he could kill you in your sleep should anything happen to their dear baby brother? Besides that, you’ve been happier. Even have a spring in your step if such a thing could be said of you, _Nadad_.”

“ _Zhin_ ,” Thorin growled.

“Don’t ‘zhin’ me, Thorin Oakenshield,” Dis hissed back. “You’ve got a sweet spot for the lad. You’re acting like a besotted Dwarfling. Admit it: you fancy him.”

“I do _not_ have a sweet spot for anyone.”

“When was the last time you even _thought_ about Bilbo?”

Thorin bit his lip, glaring Dis down. He didn’t like how her frown changed into a smirk. Him? Fancy Ori? He knew his sister had a screw loose somewhere, but _really_? Fancy Ori? Ha! Ridiculous!

“I haven’t been thinking about Bilbo for nearly a week,” he admitted. He held the book up to her face, “Because these are distracting my mind quite well. It has nothing to do with Ori though I will admit that I do find his presence enjoyable. He’s a bright lad. But if you think more will come of it, you’re mistaken. I’ve at most another fifty years, seventy or eighty if I’m lucky. He’s barely an adult, Dis.”

“Really? You’re going to argue that _age_ is going to keep you and the boy apart? You’re not _that_ old yet.”

“Goodbye Dis,” Thorin snapped, turning on his heel and striding down the hall. He heard her following him. He turned around. Dis smirked at him. “What are you? A Dwarfling?”

“Are _you_? If there’s really nothing going on between you and Ori, then you won’t mind me seeing for myself now, would you, Thorin?”

“Stop following me around!”

“Why? What have you to hide?”

“Remember when I wished I could sell you to a circus?” Thorin asked, glaring at her. Where Dis anyone _but_ his sister, his glare would send them scampering. Dis however, glared back, lip curling into a sneer.

“I do. I also remember that you _did_ try to do so and _Adad_ tanned your hide for it.”

“Technically—”

“Let’s not go into the technicalities, shall we, dearest big brother mine?”

Thorin rolled his eyes and continued on his way, trying to ignore Dis behind him. If Balin could see them now, he’d probably shake his head and mutter how some things never change. Granted, Thorin certainly perfected the art of ignoring his sister, but that didn’t make her any less annoying when it suited her.

Two guards passed. Thorin tried not to smirk. “Guards, please escort Lady Dis to her rooms.”

“That is abuse of power!” Dis shouted.

The guards watched, unsure whether to be frightened or amused.

Thorin turned around, smirking at Dis. “What’s the point of having power if it doesn’t get you off my back? Wouldn’t you have more fun embarrassing your boys?”

“No. That is your job.”

“Maybe you should escort them _both_ to their rooms,” Fili suggested to the guards as he and Kili stepped around the corner. “Really? You’re bickering again? Oh right. It’s not ‘bickering.’ It’s the proper sibling way to say ‘we love each other so we annoy each other and everyone around us.’”

“And people say we’re immature.”

“I know, Kili.”

Thorin sighed. Was it really too much to ask that he go to the library to return a book in _peace_?

The poor guards glanced between the members of the royal family, scared they may get caught in a domestic dispute. Thorin waved them off, allowing them to leave. They did so, almost running over each other in trying to escape the slaughter that may ensue.

“Look, all I want is to go to the library—”

“And see Ori?” Kili asked.

 _Why must he take after his damn mother?_ Thorin sighed. “For Mahal’s sake, I am returning a _book_. It has nothing to do with Ori.”

He pushed past the boys and dared not look around to see if they followed. His temper was teetering and if he looked behind him, he’d snap.

And regret whatever comes out of his mouth later.

All in all, Thorin knew it’d be best to not tempt fate and get into a yelling match with Dis. At best, the boys would run and hide and if it was too close to the library…

He didn’t want to risk Ori’s wrath.

He arrived at the library and handed the book to the head Scribe, who scratched something into his ledger, allowing Thorin to go on his way. He walked down the aisles, hardly glancing at the books, seeking out a golden-red mop of hair—

 _Oh._ Thorin slowed. _How did she figure it out before me?_

#

It wasn’t love.

At least Thorin was certain it wasn’t. He liked Ori’s presence. That was all. That’s all it had to be. Mahal’s hammer! Ori was younger than his _nephews_. Thorin was old enough to be the boy’s _father_.

So really, falling in love with the boy would be just as pointless as falling in love with Bilbo was.

Thorin sighed, flipping through a new book ( _Sanzigil Baybund_ , “Mithril Mask” by Henwas). He did not feel the pull the book normally would have. He set it aside and paced his study, trying to banish thoughts about a young scribe who was sweet and bore the heart of a warrior beneath…probably three or five layers of knitwear.

Snow fell heavily outside the mountain, covering every inch of stone and earth in a layer of white. Thorin glanced out the window. He smiled at the scene of youths and children of both Man and Dwarf origin playing outside under the care of their parents…

_Is that Kili?_

Thorin left the study, grabbing his cloak, going through the lecture in his head. Kili had too much to do to be playing in the snow. And he _knows_ he has too much to do. He stepped outside, ready to shout—

“Sorry!” Kili shouted.

“Kili, you idiot, you hit Uncle!” Fili snapped.

“You _ducked_ ,” Kili snapped. “Ergo, it’s just as much your fault as it is mine.”

Another snowball slammed into Thorin’s head and he turned toward the source.

“Come out to play, your majesty?” Ori asked cheekily.

“Ori, you are daring,” Fili said. “I’d run if I were you?”

“Why? He’s not attacking. And he’s outside. Free game.”

_Why that little…_

Thorin stooped, scooping snow into his hand and patting it into a ball.

“Mahal on high!” Fili shouted.

“Run, Ori, Run!” Kili screamed, running as fast as he could in the heavy snow which stuck to his boots. Fili ran after him.

Ori ducked and the ball flew overhead. Thorin jumped, almost hit by another ball of ice hurled at his head. A ball of his own making slams into Ori’s forearm. Another snowball breaks against the back of his head. Turning around, he spied Fili ducking behind a tree.

 _Disloyal little shit._ Three balls slammed into his back. Thorin stumbled. He needed to find a place to hide and give him time to think. He ran, ignoring the pelting snow against his back, and hid behind a tree, huffing for breath.

 _It’s too cold for this…I’m too old for this, damn it!_ Thorin thought. He caught his breath, thinking. He knelt in the snow, making more snowballs. _Okay. I’ve at least three brats trying to bring me down. Fili and Kili I can bring down. Ori…_

He wondered if it was disadvantageous for him to go up against Ori. Probably not. Ori didn’t know how to fight him either, though his nephews did.

Unless they decided to share with Ori where to best attack Thorin.

Would they commit such a treachery though?

He’d have to risk it. With nine balls made, he stepped out—and stumbled forward before turning around to…attack nothing.

“You’re too slow, Uncle. What’s wrong? Too old to keep up?” Kili taunted.

“I’ll show you old, Boy, when I get my hands on you!” Thorin yelled, succeeding in only getting a laugh out of Kili. And another snow ball _stuffed under his clothes._

Thorin roared, seizing the daring Dwarf around the middle and pinning him to the snow. Ori shrieked as his face was rubbed into the snow. Four arms pulled Thorin off, slamming him into the snow bank. He grabbed someone—Fili, he noted when he got a glimpse of golden hair—pulling them to the ground.

“What in the name of Mahal are you doing?!”

They quartet leveled off, standing. The cold seeping into his clothes and Thorin shivered. Balin did not seem amused with them. Thorin wondered at the last time his advisor had seemed remotely livid with him. Not since he himself was a Dwarfling…

“I would expect _this_ behavior from Fili and Kili, but _you_ Thorin?” Balin snapped. “You’re late to the meeting hall! You’ve a line of people waiting—”

“To whine like a bunch of bitches,” Fili said. Balin turned his glare on him. “What? It’s true.”

“Then you know you should join your uncle. Kili, your mother is looking for you. Ori, Dori is half ready to tear the mountain to the ground. I suggest you get home before he actually _does_.”

“Yes, Mr. Balin,” Ori said, rushing back inside.

“You three best follow his example or so help me I _will_ get Dis.” The threat worked on Fili and Kili, who rushed after Ori. Thorin walked beside Balin. “What were you doing?”

“Originally I was going to get Fili and Kili to come inside and be responsible…” Thorin sneezed.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“If you get a cold…”

“Then I get a cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul:   
> Zhin=Woman, lit lady
> 
> "Sanzigil Baybund" has a plot similar to "Mirror Mask."


	5. Chapter 5

He was sure his sudden downfall to a nasty cold and slight fever was only twenty…okay, _ninety_ percent due to wrestling in the snow with the boys two days ago.

Balin was far from amused, Dis was very amused, and all three lads were…contrite.

“We’re _so_ sorry, Uncle,” Kili wailed. “Don’t die!”

Thorin sighed. “I’m not going to die, Kili.”

“But—”

Dis took her youngest son’s shoulders and steered him out.

“Go get Oin if you’re as sorry as you say.”

“Yes, Amad.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay, Thorin?” Fili asked.

Thorin nodded. “You best go before you catch a cold yourself.”

Fili was reluctant, but obeyed, leaving Dis and Thorin in the room alone.

“I can’t believe you caught a cold from playing in the snow. You’re immunity isn’t as strong as it used to be, it seems.”

“And neither is yours, dear sister,” Thorin said.

Dis sighed, petting his hair.

“Perhaps. Oin will be up to look at you soon. I have to get to court. Try to sleep.”

Thorin pulled the covers over his head as an answer.

“You pride yourself an adult, Nadad, but sometimes you are still very much an overgrown Dwarfling.”

Her tone was endearing so he let it slide. He didn’t have the energy to enter a verbal sparring match with Dis anyway.

The last thing he heard before slipping into sleep again was his bedroom door clicked closed.

#

He was sweltering hot, sometimes unimaginably cold and at first it’d be a relief, only for him to wish he was warm again.

His bed was terribly uncomfortable, forcing him to toss and turn.

_…Burning up._

_What do we do?_

_Let the heat escape._

His blankets were ripped off and a cool cloth pressed against his forehead.

_Oin, will he be okay?_

_Yes, my lady. This is the crux of the illness. Once the fever breaks, his body will have an easier time fighting the fever. He’ll be well again by the week’s end._

_Thank you, Oin._

Thorin shivered, opening his eyes, Dis’ hand against his cheek was hot. It left his skin for a moment when a cold glass was pressed to his lips.

_Drink, Thorin._

He didn’t want to.

_Brother, please drink._

He parted his lips and let the medicine seep into his mouth.

He closed his eyes, groaning. It tasted foul!

By Mahal what was _in_ it?!

Poison?!

_It tastes awful I know. There is water ready for you as well to wash it down. Swallow. That’s it._

The cup was taken away, replaced with another, cooler than the other.

_Here’s water, Thorin._

He didn’t believe her, turning his head away from the cup.

_Thorin, please don’t be difficult. I’m trying to help. Drink._

Her hand pressed against his cheek again.

_Please, Thorin? Drink the water. I promise it is water._

He opened his eyes again. Dis’ silhouette was all he could see. Her hand pet his hair.

_Hello, Thorin. Drink the water, Nadadel._

He opened his mouth, and _yes_! It was water, washing away the foul drink that Dis had just forced down his throat.

He coughed and the cup was taken away from him.

Dis dabbed a cool cloth against his forehead and he turned on his side, shivering.

Blankets covered him again.

_Get some more sleep, Thorin…_

Whatever more she said, if she spoke more, was lost to him.

#

When he opened his eyes again, his vision was clear and his breathing easy.

He was a tad cold, so he pulled the blankets over his head and wrapped them around him tighter.

“Thorin?”

“Is it morning?”

Dis chuckled. “No. It’s just about noon.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“You woke up every so often during the worst of it. Your fever intensified and when that happened you were tossing and turning quite a bit, tangled in your blankets. But for the most part you out cold for two days and two nights. Well, two and a _half_ days, technically. Oin’s medicine was quite effective, though I could tell it tasted like Orc piss.”

“Worse. Orc _shit_.”

Dis didn’t respond. Thorin sat up, staring at her. She looked a little green at the idea.

“Are you gagging?”

“Trying not to.”

Thorin snorted. “I apologize.”

She inhaled deeply. “Well, regardless what it _tastes_ like, you’re definitely looking better. You’re a bit sweaty, so I’ll call a servant to start you a bath while the sheets are changed.”

“Thank you.”

“And get some soup for you,” she said as an afterthought. “Best to get something in you other than medicine and water.”

Thorin fully agreed when his stomach rumbled.

Dis chuckled. “I’ll have the servants fill the bathtub, shall I?”

“Please.”

After she left, he lay back down, and covered his eyes with his forearm. He breathed deeply. His nose was still a little clogged, but indeed the worst of his illness had passed. Knowing his sister, she won’t allow him to work again for at least another day.

He heard the faucet flood with water, filling the tub for him. He waited a few more minutes until a servant alerted him that his bath was ready before sneaking away as though he was never there.

Thorin threw the covers off and headed to the bathtub. The water was warm against his skin and Thorin sighed, allowing his muscles to relax.

When the water was cooler, he dunked his head underneath and washed his hair clean of sleep and fever induced sweat tangled in his raven locks.

Once the water started to get a little too cool for his liking, Thorin emerged, drying himself with a towel and donning fresh clothes lay on a bench for him: loose and soft breeches and tunic, both black-died cotton. Warm, but not suffocating.

Returning to his room, his bed had been made, but the promised soup had not—

The door opened and Ori stepped in, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a mug of ale.

Thorin stared at him curiously. Ori smiled.

“I offered to bring it,” he explained, setting the tray on the table. “Least I could do since you were sick. It was my fault for stuffing snow down your shirt.”

“Don’t apologize,” Thorin said, sitting down. “Thank you.”

“I also brought you a new book…” He pulled the tome out of his satchel, setting it on the table. _Tharak Bazan,_ “Gardens of Stones.”

“Thank you, Ori,” Thorin said. “How’ve you been?”

Ori blushed. “Well enough. My workload’s getting a little heavier. Balin’s doing no doubt.”

“I’ll tell him to lighten your work. You should not be punished for playing in the snow.”

“And getting the king sick,” Ori added, arching a brow.

“I did not need to respond to your challenge,” Thorin reminded him. “I am at fault for getting myself sick. And it’s mostly passed so do not feel responsible.”

Ori frowned. “I should get back—”

Thorin seized his sleeve, pinching the fabric between his fingers. “Stay. Read to me.”

 _Nice going, Thorin!_ He berated himself after watching Ori’s expression become startled. _You sound like a child barely able to keep from hiding behind his mother’s skirts._

He releases Ori. “I apologize. You’ve much work to do and I…” _Will just shut up._

Ori pulled a chair out and picked up the book, turning the pages and cleared his throat.

“The Eve of Durin’s Day was fast to end,” he began, “Merchants selling their wares, the food they gathered and the finest arts they created were gathered into crates to be carted home for the night…”


	6. Chapter 6

It had been three days since Thorin’s cold had finally passed and that morning.

Dain had arrived to discuss trade for when spring arrived. No official meetings and discussions would happen until tomorrow, but it was good to have Dain among the group again, asking after Dis and the boys’ while he and Thorin talked about how short months had passed and Erebor’s immense progress.

He would answer Dain noncommittally when his thoughts turned to that he had finished the last book Ori had gotten for him and whether he may have the time to return it…

And whether or not he’d see Ori.

He pulled himself out of his mind and turned to Dain, hastily apologizing to his cousin, saying he had been rather distracted and his mind was elsewhere. He left out what had been distracting him.

Dain figured it might have been a lover and Thorin blushed despite himself, chastising his younger cousin for such an uncouth suggestion!

“So not a lover? Maybe someone you would _like_ to have as a lover?” he guessed, smirking wider.

Thorin shoved Dain a little harder than necessary and excused himself with a dry laugh, deciding to train and get his thoughts in line.

The training grounds were on the first floor, to the left of the gates. Its entrance was an unbarred and doorless arch, permitting all who wished to come and train to do so, regardless of rank and class.

The sparring ring was slightly elevated, built of stone. Two stairs of five tiers allowed opponents to climb onto the platform. Hanging at the furthest end of the ring is a bronze gong and hammer, rung when the match could begin.

Around the ring were several stations for different strengths:

Weights to aid in building muscles, practice dummies made of wood for cleaving into with whatever weapon chosen, a track designed solely for running, and an area for hand to hand combat training with burlap bags filled with sand.

(Archery was an outdoor sport and usually archers would train with their weapons on the field rather than inside where it was _far_ too easy for someone to end up getting shot.)

Thorin slammed Orcrist into the wooden dummy, nearly cleaving it in half. With a grunt, he wrenched the blade free before slamming the blade back in.

“Here you are,” Dis called. Her voice echoed off the stone walls.

He lowered Orcrist, staring at her.

“Bit late for sparring practice isn’t it?” she asked, crossing her arms. “You missed dinner. Dain was wondering if you were still feeling a little ill. I told him you were weary and would see him in the morning. I was kind of hoping I was right.”

Thorin glanced at the wooden pole he was cleaving notches into.

“What’s wrong? Is it about Ori?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s not to know? Since you began going to the library, you’ve stopped going through motions. You’ve hardly sighed dramatically until two days ago when it picked up again. So I guess you’re over Bilbo?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?”

“In a way,” Thorin admitted. “But I can’t pursue Ori.”

“Why ever not?”

Thorin stared at his sister, mouth agape. “He’s younger than _Kili_ , Dis! Barely in his majority! I’ve at best another century to live! I’m old enough to be his father!”

“Who cares?”

“ _I_ care! Mahal knows his brothers will probably care…”

Dis approached the weapons while he spoke, choosing a sword and entered the ring. “Spar with me.”

“Dis—”

“I know I’m not Dwalin, but spar with me anyway,” she said. “And if I win, you listen to what I have to say. That’s all. If you win, I’ll drop the matter even though it _kills_ me to watch you mope and brood like _Fili_ used to. One broody teenager was enough for me, thank you.”

Thorin stared at her. “Agreed,” he said, joining her in the ring. He approached the gong and slammed the hammer into it. The loud bang echoed off the walls and he placed the hammer down, never taking his eyes off his sister.

As protocol begin that the challenger initiates the fight, she attacked first. Thorin blocked Dis’ overhead attack, pushing her back and jabbing Orcrist toward her stomach, Dis stepped aside, pulling her skirts out from under her feet.

“Need a time out to fix you dress, Namadith?” Thorin teased, backing off just in case.

Dis sneered at him. “Come at me.”

He accepted the goad, charging. Orcrist’s steal slammed into the Dis’ iron sword and he tried to push Dis toward the edge. She stood firm, shoving him off with a yell. She swung her sword in an arc, forcing Thorin to jump back.

His heel slid on the ground and he fell, Orcrist sliding out of his hand. Dis stood over him, her blade resting against Thorin’s throat.

“Do you yield?”

“Now that’s cheating, Dis,” Thorin muttered. “I _tripped_. A child’s mistake.”

“Which makes it all the more embarrassing for you,” she said, smirking. “ _Do you yield_?”

He glared. “I yield.”

She took the blade away from his neck and helped him up. “Now you are going to listen to me, Thorin,” Dis said, picking up Orcrist and returning it to him. He sheathed the blade and crossed his arms, waiting for her to make her case.

“Who cares if he’s younger than Kili? I don’t! He’s been a blessing to you! And I’ve met Ori. He’s a sweet boy. So if you wish to court him, I’ve already given my approval. All that matters to me is that he makes you happy. As for his brothers, well, you can’t rise much higher if you’re brother-in-law becomes the King’s Consort. If they don’t approve of you on that alone, that only tells you how close knit they are. You and Frerin both were the same way when Víli came to Adad, asking him for permission to court me. If Ori makes you happy and you want to court him, _then court him_. Preferably before your hair gets greyer,” she added, grinning.

Thorin rolled his eyes. “It’s just a few streaks…” He muttered. “It’s not _that_ grey.”

“All right, I’ll simplify it,” she said, “since you’re now _griping_ about your _hair_.” Thorin glared at her. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you look forward to seeing him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you’re in love with him?”

Thorin paused and stared at the ground. Did he? “I go to the library, intending to get a new book…and most of the time I end up looking for him…So yes. I love him.”

“Well then, what are you doing here?” Dis snapped. She descended the platform and he followed her to the weapons wall where her sword was returned. “Go get his brother’s permission to court him. I want to see him at the Yule Ball, Thorin, on your arm. Or so help me, I will go to great and terrible lengths to get the two of you together.”

“You’d have Fili and Kili do your bidding at tricking us into the same room and locking it. Wouldn’t you?”

“It worked before when Frerin was being obstinately stubborn about Mingal.”

Thorin arched his brow. They usually never mentioned their brother and sister-in-law if it could be helped. After Frerin passed in the Battle of Azanulbizar, Mingal had not been the same and while they tried to help, she still ended up running away and starved to death in the woods.

Her and the baby.

“Anyway, you haven’t eaten. Go wash up and I’ll send someone up with food. And think about what you’re going to say to Ori’s family.”

“Other than ‘do not kill me?’”

Dis laughed lightly. “You know where my room is if you need to hide.” He shoved her lightly, only to be shoved back before wrapping his arm around her shoulders in a brotherly embrace.

“Thank you, Dis.”

“Anytime you need your head smacked, just come get me.”

“I always do. Now,” she shoved him off. “I’ve got to go get your dinner ready and you have to come up with a plan to convince Ori’s brothers to let you court him.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, going ahead of her.

On reaching his rooms, he paused, staring at the note nailed to his door with a black hilted dagger. He took a kerchief out of his pocket and grabbed the dagger before touching the note and opening it up.

_Death to Durin’s Folk_

Thorin growled. He strode away from the door, pinning a guard walking down the hall. “Who left this on my door?!” he demanded.

“My Lord?”

Thorin seized the guard, shoving him against the wall. “ _Who left this_ ,” he waved the parchment at him, “ _on my door?!!_ ”

“Thorin!” Fili pulled him off. “Continue your rounds,” he ordered the guard, who passed them by nervously, glancing at them every so often. “What’s wrong?”

Thorin handed him the note. Fili paled. He lifted his gaze to Thorin. “If it’s a joke, it’s rather…I’ll take this Balin. Is there anything else?” Thorin handed him the dagger still wrapped in the cloth.

“Take it to Nori instead,” he instructed.

Fili furrowed his brow.

“I need stealth,” he explained. “Balin is a good soldier and advisor, but stealth is not his game. He’d have the guards causing a ruckus, giving whoever left _that_ a chance to escape before he’s found. And instruct Nori to keep this between the three of us. I don’t want your brother and mother to know about this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Fili said, pocketing the evidence. He strode away and Thorin returned, shakily, to his room. He closed the door behind him and sunk into the chair beside the hearth, frowning at the embers.

Who would threaten his family? Had he not done all he could in his power to bring his people back home? Why would he be threatened? No one was _here_ when he went gold-mad! Or was this about the horror people underwent when Thror was king?

Would he never be free of his family’s infamous legacy?!

He could handle it if it was himself! If it was just he who was threatened, he’d have…

Thorin doesn’t know what he would have done.

A servant enters, laying the food down on the table and leaves. Thorin stares at the food, paranoia taking him.

 _No,_ he thought. _If they wanted me killed silently, they’d not have alerted me to their presence._ Shaking, he stood and ate two bites.

His appetite had completely vanished.


	7. Chapter 7

Nori handed a vial to Thorin early in the morning after almost being skewered.

(That had been rather awkward, having to explain your paranoia to a friend. Nori was understanding though and the attack forgiven.)

“This is an antidote to all known poisons. Snatched it from the wizard back on our journey here.”

Thorin arched an eyebrow.

“What?” Nori asked. “You never know when you might need it. Either way, have it on your person in case you start getting affected by something in your food. Though, as you surely guessed, your majesty, whoever sent you that threat wasn’t planning on a quick and quiet death.”

“Thank you, Nori.” He pocketed the vial. “Anything about who might have left it?”

“None yet. I’m not that fast on gathering information. However, I can tell you that there has been some unhappy nobles who remember your grandfather’s reign. They’re convinced that you may fall prey to the madness.” They grinned dryly at that. “Can’t really tell them you already did and snapped out of it.”

“No. Indeed not.”

“So! I’ve got my ear out. The blade is clean of poisons also, and I’ve got an appointment with a blacksmith who may know where that dagger was purchased. I’ll be in weekly to give you updates on my search.”

Thorin nodded.

Nori bowed grandly and left, scaling the window outside.

Thorin leaned over and sighed, rubbing his eyes.

He hadn’t slept well, one eye open in case of an attack.

And eating had, for nearly two days, been nearly impossible.

Dis had noticed, but was far too busy instructing Kili on how to organize events such as the Yule Ball.

Kili was not enjoying it much, saying that the actual event was more fun.

He received a pat on the cheek from his mother, telling him that the reward of _planning_ the event makes it more fun.

Thorin didn’t see how. Every time something was put out of place he winced, feeling quite sorry that Dis’ hard work had such little appreciation.

She assured him she was quite used to it by now and was more worried about how it would affect Kili’s disposition.

Which made no sense to Thorin. He loved Kili, but the boy made him wonder sometimes…

But the celebration was not for another two weeks. Whatever Dis and Kili were planning, it was best to leave it to them and stay out of it.

(He made sure to let Fili know this little bit, while he smirked at Kili and stuck his tongue out at him. Kili was far from amused and signed something _very_ rude to his brother. Thorin signed back telling him to behave or his mother would find out. That _always_ works.)

Thorin’s mind was far from the coming Yule preparation when he talked to Nori.

 _That could have been a good…no, scratch that,_ Thorin stood deciding to get ready for the day. _Best to talk to him and Dori_ together _rather than one at a time. Just so it’s all on the same page…_

His fingers shook slightly as he dressed and fixed his braids.

From what he knew of Dori, he was quite fastidious when it came to braids. The eldest was a great warrior, but left the group to start his own _tea shop_ of all things.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Dori’s tea is one of a kind.

But a _tea shop_?

Thorin decided it would be prudent not to question Dori’s passion for tea. Especially since it was _him_ he needed to impress if he wanted to court Ori.

Nori probably wouldn’t care so long as his little brother was well cared for…

Thorin closed his eyes, realizing that _maybe_ Nori wasn’t a good choice for a spy…well, he was, but at this time?! Even if he convinced Dori, he had definitely made sure that _Nori_ would not approve.

True, he only _needed_ Dori’s approval, but both brothers agreeing to Thorin’s request would be better than just one!

 _Just get it over with_ , he decides. _I will deal with Nori if it comes down to it._

#

Thorin stepped inside the small shop.

Several Dwarrowdams sat chatting, some were with Dwarrows, hidden in corners and hardly paying attention to what was set on their table.

 _Was this what kids_ do _these days?_

No.

Some had better heads on their shoulders, he remembered. Then again, regardless how they acted, his nephews and Ori were adults if just barely.

Dori was instructing a waiter, who carried teacups and saucers on a tray toward a table. He caught Thorin and grinned. Until he recognized him.

Thorin shook his head. _Don’t panic. Don’t panic._

Dori arched an eyebrow, shock ended. He beckoned Thorin to follow him up the stairs into a small living room.

“Well, what do I owe the pleasure, your majesty?”

“Just Thorin, Dori,” he replied.

“Please, take a seat. Would you like something to drink? Or eat?”

“No. I’m quite all right.” _Though I’ll probably visit the pub after this,_ he thought, _whether it goes well or not._ He did his best to make himself comfortable. “Actually I wish to discuss something with you.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know how much Ori tells you about his work…” he swallowed. “Lately, I’ve been going to the library often…”

“He does say you show an interest in books he didn’t know about. Which I will admit surprised me. You seem more the type to spar or train as a way to distract yourself.”

Thorin blanched. “Pardon?”

“After you punched Dwalin and screamed at him the day of the… _incident_ , did you really think some of us wouldn’t realize how you felt about Bilbo? And you didn’t attend their wedding ceremony either. Normally the best friend would be at such an event. Not everyone figured it out, if you’re worried about that…”

“No. It’s in the past,” Thorin said. “About…my going to the library so often. It’s not just about finding new books.”

Dori’s eyes narrowed at his confession. “What do you mean?”

“Ori and I talk quite a bit. Not just about books. We’ve discussed work, politics, family…”

“Even went around gallivanting in the snow,” he added, smirking a bit.

“With Fili and Kili.”

“Indeed. I do apologize about that. Ori can get a little overenthusiastic when he finds the time to play around like a Dwarfling again. Especially where your nephews are involved.”

“Enough apologies had gone around concerning my recent illness. All three were quite upset I fell ill.”

Dori nodded, smiling. “I am glad Ori has found a friend in you, Thorin, but I suppose this visit is leading to somewhere? I’d rather you just say what you wish. I don’t mean to be rude, but I do have some new employees to train and…”

Thorin nodded. “Dori, I want you to know that I would never disgrace your family. Let alone impugn Ori’s honor. Which is why, with your permission, I would like to court Ori.”

He watched Dori, waiting for him to completely ignore rank and throw Thorin out or break his neck if worse had come to worse.

Dori did none of what Thorin feared, simply staring at him coolly.

“I see,” he said. “Very well. Have you discussed this with Ori before seeing me?”

“No.”

“He left for work an hour ago. He should be there now.”

Thorin nodded, stunned. A breath he had been holding seemed to be freed and he felt like soaring (if such a thing were possible).

“Thank you.”

“Thorin, if he turns you down, respect that. I am not giving you permission to court my brother because you’re the king. I trust you. And I am _trusting_ you with my brother. Tread wisely.”

“Of course,” Thorin said, swallowing. It didn’t take much to make him nervous.

Apparently talking to a potential lover’s eldest brother who raised him was one such thing that could make Thorin feel like he was standing in front of his father again, awaiting punishment for a prank gone wrong.

“Then we will get along splendidly, Thorin.” Dori stood and bowed.

Thorin returned the courtesy and followed him down the steps.“Thank you, Dori.”

Dori waved him off.

“Go talk to Ori,” he said. “And you best plan on coming to dinner once a week. No less than that!”

Thorin nodded, unsure what to do with that. Clearly it was Dori’s way of making sure Thorin knew he was watched. “I can do that.”

“Good! And good luck.”

Thorin thanked him a final time and left, heading to the library.


	8. Chapter 8

He paused outside the library, clenching and unclenching his hands. Thorin inhaled, and opened the door, stepping into the library. He approached the reception desk and the Dwarf working there stood.

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing. “What can I do for you today?”

“I would like to speak with Ori son of Riika. Privately,” he said. The Dwarf led him to the back of the library where a small lounge resided.

“Ori?”

“Yes?” Ori replied. He had just finished donning his grey scrivener’s robes. He stared at Thorin, and bowed. “Your majesty.”

“The King would like a word, Ori.” He turned to Thorin, “take as long as you need, Sire.” He bowed out. When the door clicked shut, Ori adopted a more casual stance by crossing his arms.

“What’s going on, Thorin? You usually wouldn’t use your power like that unless it was something important.”

“Well,” Thorin scratched the back of his neck. “Not _important_ …well, yes, it’s important, but not…a state…thing.” He tensed and felt his cheeks burn as a smile crept up Ori’s face. “All right, so I abused my power as King to get you alone for a moment.”

“Not sure if I should be disappointed in you or laugh because you’re rather ridiculous.”

Thorin shrugged, relaxing. Well, _tried_ to relax. “Ori, I wanted to ask if you would be…inclined to go to the Yule Ball…with me?”

Ori’s eyebrows shot up and his smile vanished. His shoulder’s sagged a little bit and his crossed arm loosened.

Thorin wanted to run—and probably would have if he were still as young as his nephews. He bowed his head. “My apologies—”

“Of course I’ll go!” Ori shouted. He clapped his hands over his mouth, staring at the door. “I’d be honored to go with you to the Yule Ball, Thorin. Dori though…”

“I’ve already spoken with Dori,” Thorin assured him.

“And he said _yes_?!”

“He did. Not without threatening me, but that’s only to be expected.”

Ori sighed. “Whatever he said, I am _so_ sorry.”

Thorin shrugged. “I’d have said the same if anyone came to me asking my permission to court Fili or Kili…Or Dis, for that matter.”

“That makes sense, I suppose…”

“The ball begins at seven the evening of the solstice,” Thorin mentioned, not sure why he was trying to sound casual. “I’ll escort you to the palace from your home around five?”

Ori nodded. “I’d like that.”

#

“You’re all but walking on air,” Dis said when he returned, a smirk on her face. “Did you finally gather that legendary courage of yours and ask Ori to let you court him?”

“I did.”

“Good,” Dis said. “I can _finally_ have my revenge.”

Thorin paused, staring at his sister. “Revenge?”

“If I remember rightly,” she said, “You gave me and my dearly departed husband enough trouble during our own courtship. You and Frerin both!”

“In my defense,” Thorin replied, returning the smirk. “Víli was dating my darling baby sister. He needed constant reminding who he was dealing with if he was intent on marrying into the family.”

“Well be glad, then. His sons are now your heirs!”

“Mahal help us.”

“Father and Grandfather said that about you too, if I recall.”

“And I pray that Mahal will be merciful on us again as he was when I was a lad, and Fili will grow out of his need to cause mischief.”

“Well, Fili may have our family’s hereditary need for mischief, but he is more his father’s son than he is a Durin. When he’s not goofing around with Kili, he can be quite levelheaded. The people may despair, but we’re safe. At least for another generation.”

Thorin laughed, patting Dis’ shoulder. “I pray you’re right.”

“I’m always right—especially when it comes to my boys.” Dis pushed him off. “Now that you’ve asked Ori to go to the ball with you, you have _work_. Get to court room.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, groaning. _How am I supposed to concentrate on work_ now _?_

#

The ball room was filled with Dwarven nobles from the nearest kingdoms. Three long tables of polished wood, decorated in white silk cloths and gold dishware—gleaming plates waiting to be dirtied with mutton, ham, and venison soaked in gravy that would be wiped away in thick, black, nutty bread and cups filled with strongest ale Erebor could offer—surrounded the dance floor. In the corner, a line of minstrels performed for the dancers a soft and festive melody.

Dwarrows wore white tunics beneath thick frieze doublets dyed various colors. Some red, some green, some blue, and many more, covered in matching gems and precious metals, usually gold or silver.

The few Dwarrowdams among the attendees wore velvet cote-hardies with their collars aligned in jewel studs varying from diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. Their necks were covered in chain chokers and necklaces of gold or silver with pendant gems.

The music paused at seven o’clock sharp. The doors swung open and the crowd parted, bowing to Thorin and his family decked in Durin blue in one variation or another.

Thorin and his heirs wore dark blue frieze breeches, feet covered in leather boots. Thorin wore a blue and gold brocade doublet over a black tunic and his hands were covered in leather gloves. Fili favored a white and gold brocade doublet as opposed to the blue and silver doublet Kili donned. Dis wore a royal blue cote-hardie gown with gold embroidery along the collar and seems.

Once the bowing had ended, eyes shifted to the figure standing beside Thorin. Ori wore black frieze breeches with a murrey doublet with black embroidery. He wore no jewels, but had buttons carved from rose-quartz along his collar sewn into the fabric with gold. His hands were covered in his signature knit gloves which he tugged on nervously.

Whispers did not pick up until they could be drowned out by the music once the royal family sat down with Ori on Thorin’s right—where Fili would normally sit as the heir. He sat, instead, on Ori’s right and to Thorin’s left was Dis and Kili.

Ori stared at his plate, fidgeting.

Thorin wondered if inviting him to attend the ball with him was a smart choice. He was clearly nervous and barely looked up from his plate though Fili tried to keep him distracted from the prying eyes.

Dain peered over at him, arching a brow. _What are you doing?_ He signed at Thorin.

_If you have a problem with my guest, we will discuss it later._

_No problems,_ Dain assured him. _Are you courting him? He’s a bit young. And placing him beside you instead of Fili is a very loud statement._

_Blame Dis about the seating arrangement. No, we aren’t courting yet._

_That makes more sense. And congrats. Almost. He’s adorable._

Thorin glared at Dain, who grinned and turned away from him, focusing on the food laid out before them instead.

Dinner, overall, was a loud affair and when the dance floor filled with dancers again, Fili stood and approached his mother, bowing and offering her his hand. Dis followed him to the floor and they disappeared, joining the kaleidoscope of dancers. Kili joined later, offering his arm to a young noble’s son, who blushed as he followed Kili onto the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance?” Thorin asked Ori, standing.

“I’m afraid I’m not very good.”

“I promise we won’t look like fools,” he said. Ori stared at his hand and took it, allowing Thorin to lead him into the dance. “Thank you for coming with me and spare me the humiliation of having my sister attempt to trip me. Again.”

Ori smiled. “Does she do that a lot?”

“I probably deserve it somewhere…I had too much fun tormenting her when we were younger.”

“Which was eons ago,” Kili said, dancing past them.

Thorin scowled at him, but dared not break the dance to cuff him aside the head. Ori’s shoulders shook from holding down his laughter.

“I apologize about that…” Thorin began.

“Don’t. It’s Kili being Kili.”

“True, and I really should be used to it by now. I simply am not!”

Ori laughed now. “From the way you go on about it, it sounds like they were coerced by your sister.”

Thorin nodded. “I would not be surprised if that was true.”

Dain tapped Thorin’s shoulder, inquiring whether he could cut in, stealing Ori away far sooner than Thorin would have liked. He liked Dain and he was a good friend and cousin when it suited him, but he was just as meddlesome as his sister and he feared whatever he would say to Ori would put him off.

Thorin danced with a Dwarrowdam next, trying to keep an eye on Ori through the dancing, even as the music changed to a slower song. By the time he caught sight of Ori again, he had been passed to Lord Náli whom was getting a little too touchy.

Thorin made a note to find out who he was and take his hand, but before he could rescue Ori, another Dwarrow did so for him. He finally danced with Dis, still trying to keep an eye on Ori.

“If you keep that up, you’ll end up tripping us with no help from me.”

“Ori—”

“Is young, on the King’s arm, and attractive. Of course he’s going to attract attention from the others,” she said. “He’s handling himself well enough and he’s told Lord Náli no, twice. Granted, that old bastard likes to cop a feel a tad too much. I know from experience.”

 “Still—”

“Thorin, I know you’re in love with the boy, but _focus_.” She pinched his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Ori agreed to come with _you_. Dancing with others is a good step for him to establish himself among the nobility. Yes, there are certainly _some_ among the group who are far from happy with his presence, but what matters is that _you_ are happy. And others are quite taken with him already. He isn’t going to be whisked away by another any time soon, that boy is too kind for _that_. So stop worrying and go dance with him _again_.”

They broke apart and he cut in, stealing Ori back. “You seem relieved.”

“It’s a little awkward…dancing with so many blue-bloods.”

“Welcome to the club,” Thorin said, shrugging.

“Not sure I like the club yet,” Ori muttered, making Thorin laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some new terms that might help see what is being worn at the ball:
> 
> Frieze=a thick, woolen cloth often used for outer garments. I was gonna use leather, but its winter at the time now, so…leather won’t work as well unless there’s fur lined within them to keep in the warmth and it’s gonna get warm in the ball room eventually…
> 
> Cote-hardie=when worn by women, it is a gown with a tighter fitting top while the skirt fanned out. (It’s different sort of clothing when worn by men…kind of like a vest or waist coat, I think…)
> 
> Murrey=a deep purple red color, usually worn by the rich (and with the Ri brother’s newfound status, easily accessible)


	9. Chapter 9

“Perhaps, then, we can retire early,” Thorin suggested. “I’ll escort you home if you like. It’d certainly be quieter and probably less intimidating as us blue-bloods.”

“I don’t particularly care,” Ori said, “True, some of the nobles are quite…interesting, to put it lightly.” Thorin snorted. “But I was more worried that I’d be judged for not previously being a noble.”

“Even if they do, they won’t dare to say so in public. Not when my family has opened their arms to you so graciously,” Thorin assured him. “Besides, they already know that you and my nephews are friends.”

“Then they may be confused why I’ve come with the king and not one of the princes.”

“Do you regret coming with me?” Thorin asked, slowing down slightly.

“No,” he said. “Why would I? Unlike with Fili and Kili, I can talk to you about books and, well, things I can’t and don’t talk to them about. Not that I couldn’t even if I wanted to, it’s just that they’re more athletic rather than intellectual. You’re easier to talk to sometimes, by comparison. And once you stop acting so gruff, you’re approachable. Even likeable.”

“Gruff?”

Ori nodded. “You used to scowl a lot more.”

“Ah.” He grinned, pulling Ori just a little closer. “I have been told that my scowl can be off putting. I am glad you managed to see through _that_ poor quality of mine.”

“As am I, your majesty,” Ori replied, grinning at him.

His chest tightened at the formality, but he kept smiling and leading Ori through the dance. He swallowed, knowing now was not the most _ideal_ time, but patience was never really a quality Thorin had.

“If you are…all right with it, would you…would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

Ori stared at him, a blush creeping to his ears. “And may I ask who is asking?”

“Just myself,” Thorin assured him. “Thorin the blacksmith, if that helps. I just…” He sighed. “Perhaps I am a fool…but I…Ori, I think I love you—”

A finger pressed against his mouth silencing him and he then realized they had not been dancing for a while.

“I thought you loved Bilbo,” Ori accused.

“I did, but why should I be miserable the rest of my life, pining for someone I cannot have? Going to the library was…just an outlet at first, something to distract me from the heartache I felt from being in love with my best friend’s One, and I…I did not expect to fall in love with you, Ori. I just…did. But I don’t regret it. Loving you feels different from how I loved Bilbo…I do fear I’m too old but—”

Ori pulled him down to his height, standing on the balls of his feet and pressing his lips to Thorin’s.

“I don’t care about your age,” he snapped, settling back down on his heels. “Why would I? Why _should_ I? I didn’t think you’d think of me as anything more than child, given how close I am to Fili and Kili, but…”

Ori sighed, clearing his throat.

“I would love to have dinner with you, Thorin.”

Thorin grinned, opening his mouth to speak—

Screams echoed off the walls, bringing Thorin back to the present, where the world did _not_ consist of only him and Ori to see an arrow embedded in the table.

Dis was guarded by her sons. She was pale and her eyes never left the weapon.

“Dis!” Thorin shouted, approaching her. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she replied shakily, “Fili saw it and pulled me out of the way, but…” Dis swallowed, massaging her gold and sapphire encrusted throat. “What is going on?”

“Uncle?” Kili asked.

Thorin exchanged a look with Fili, who nodded, turning to his mother and brother.

“Thorin received a message few days ago and asked me to keep it quiet. Someone threatened our family.”

Dis turned to Thorin, scowling. “And you decided to keep it from me?!”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Thorin said. “Nor did I think whoever sent me that message would attack so soon, Namadith. I am already looking for them. Only the best. I swear it.”

“The _best_?”

“They’ve only just made themselves known a couple weeks ago, Mother,” Fili said. “How were we to know they’d show themselves so soon? This attack was not anticipated at all—”

“The two of you are utter _dunderheads!_ ” she shrieked, slapping both Fili and Thorin atop their heads. “How can you not only risk the assured safety of your family but also _that_ of your _guests_?! I swear, the line of Durin is full of fools!” Dis stormed toward the door, shouting for the guards.

Kili tried and failed to keep his smirk down. “I know I should not laugh, but it’s a bit satisfying seeing you get your heads slapped and not suffer the same fate for once.”

“You’re about to get worse than your head slapped if you don’t shut up,” Fili growled.

Thorin sighed. “The two of you should stay with your mother and keep an eye on Ori. If he asks, tell him the truth. And see to the guests.”

“What about you?” Fili asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he glanced up and spied Nori from the rafters. “I’ll be back momentarily.” He approached Ori, who stared at him with worry and confusion. “I am so sorry, but I have to go.”

“What’s going on?”

“I wish I had the time to explain, but if you ask one of my nephews, they will tell you what you want to know.”

Thorin waved at two guards to accompany him before kissing Ori’s hand.

“Again, I am sorry about this.”

He led the guards to the rafters. Nori had the assassin pinned to the ground, pressing all his weight down on the Dwarf, a crossbow skidded across the hall.

“Has he said anything?”

Nori shook his head. “It’s been all I could do to keep him from biting his tongue out or swallowing this,” he tossed the capsule to a guard. “It is poison—don’t worry, it’s not harmful unless you ingest it,” he assured the startled guard. “I would suggest forcing a brittle into his mouth or something similar to keep him from trying to kill himself again.”

One of the guards removed a strap of leather. “Will this do until we get something that will keep him from…biting his tongue out?”

“Temporarily,” Nori agreed, taking it from him and forcing the strap between the assassin’s teeth and tying it tightly like a gag.

The guards relieved Nori of his burden.

Thorin stared at the Dwarf.

Who was he and why did he want his family dead?

Thorin wanted to know, but right now, he seethed.

“Were I not in need of answers, I’d have your _head_ this very moment,” he growled. _No one attacks my family_. “Take him below. Chain him to the wall. Do not, under any circumstances give him food or water.”

“My lord?”

Thorin glared at the guard. He bowed his head and mumbled an affirmation. The led the prisoner downstairs. Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So…that aside, since when were you courting my little brother? If I may be so bold to ask.”

“Since your elder brother gave his permission. I’ve not the time to construct his gifts yet, but soon.”

“Hmm…bad timing, if I say so.”

Thorin met Nori’s eyes. “Perhaps you are right. Maybe it is bad timing. But I won’t let anything happen to your brother, Nori.”

“I know. You’re too honorable to let anything bad happen to him. So I trust you, but…tread a bit more carefully, will you? Dori and I will tear each other apart without Ori to keep us in line.”

Thorin nodded. Nori patted his shoulder. “How’s your sister?”

“Shaken. Angry. Nothing unusual,” he smiled dryly. “She’ll have my beard if something like this happens again, though.”

“Well, then, I’ve best get to torturing an assassin. Hopefully he won’t be too hard to break,” Nori said, frighteningly cheerful. “Sooner he does, the sooner I can find those conspirators before royal blood gets shed.”

“You’ll be hard pressed then.”

“Nah,” Nori said, smirking. “He’s young. Probably his first assignment. Poor thing doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.”

#

Thorin found Ori leaning against the wall with Kili beside him.

Kili straightened when Thorin arrived and Ori glanced at him.“Is…” Kili began, he cut himself off, glancing at Ori, who seemed a bit tenser.

“The assassin’s been caught,” Thorin said. “And has been taken…downstairs. The guests?”

“Shaken up,” he replied. “Amad’s still upset, but she’s not screaming at Fili anymore. She’s probably waiting for you now.”

“I’ll talk to her in the morning. Remind your brother to increase security around the palace. Ori,” he turned to him.

Ori looked up at him, arms crossed over his chest and visibly shaking.

“I am _so_ sorry about all this. I can’t imagine the ball was as enjoyable as I had hoped it’d be for you.”

Kili cleared his throat and turned to go, a hint of nausea in his face.

Ori shrugged. “I’ve faced worse. If you remember, I was tied to a roasting rack, almost tortured by goblins, fell out of a tree clinging to Dori’s feet…I’m a bit scared for you and your family, Thorin, but otherwise, I’m okay.”

Thorin nodded. “I’ll take you home.”

“Is that safe? For you, I mean.”

“I am a warrior, Ori. I can take care of myself.”

Ori smiled, walking beside Thorin as they headed toward the palace gates. “Sometimes I wonder. There was a time you were chewed up by a Warg.”

“And it will never happen again,” Thorin growled. “Ever.”


	10. Chapter 10

“They call themselves _Thund_.”

“The _arm?_ ” Thorin asked, arching a brow.

Nori shrugged.

“If they went for simple yet ominous, they certainly attained it. They’re purpose is, as you may have guessed, to rid the world of the direct descendants of Durin. But it’s actually a little more complicated than that. They want to rid the world of corruption, beginning with Durin’s line and then moving on to different kings and lords of varying lineages.”

“Anarchists?” Thorin asked.

“Seems like it to me,” Nori said. “The boy has agreed to a trade: the location of _Thund_ for his freedom. Do we take it?”

“Tell him that his life is forfeit if he lies. Until his compatriots are captured, keep him imprisoned. We’ll arrange him a fake execution and send him to the Blue Mountains once we know for sure that he has told the truth.”

“And of the others?”

“They used a _boy_ to attack my family,” Thorin growled. “I will not be merciful on any other who has joined them. Save you.”

“Me?”

“Well, I’m not going to send in a known soldier, Nori. I need the information verified before leading an attack. Can you infiltrate them?”

Nori arched a brow, as though wanting to ask:

 _Did you really just_ ask _me if I can mingle among anarchists? What do you take me for?_

Thorin decided he didn’t want to answer that question.

“If I die—”

“You’re death will be avenged and I’ll suffer whatever fate your brothers deem fit.”

Nori snorted.

“Not much of a fate. Dori’s the only one who’d be able to do any damage.”

Thorin shook his head.

“I wouldn’t cross a scribe. Swords may be harder to break, but quills are easier to replace. I’d rather fare whatever Dori has to offer than be eviscerated in whatever Ori writes.”

“Aye, my brother is quite a wordsmith. I’d be afraid of what he writes about _me_ if he had it in his mind to. I’ll do it, though I don’t fancy changing my hair! It’s hard enough to style in the morning.”

“You could go with a simpler style,” Thorin suggested.

Nori beamed a smirk at him.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

#

Thorin was not an artist quite as skilled with the pen as his intended was, but he could draw a basic design of the dagger he wished to make for Ori.

The blade would be made of iron and curved into a point. In the center of the blade would be three studs: two amethysts and one sapphire.

The hilt would be gold and silver with amethyst gems inlaid in the silver.

The length of the blade would be equal to the length of that of the hilt and the sheath would be the same gold and silver design as the hilt with two rings that could be slipped around a belt.

Thorin leaned back, staring at the crude drawing and the hastily scrawled notes along the page.

“You’re up early,” Dis’ voice trilled from the doorway.

“And you’re chipper,” Thorin turned to smirk at his sister. “Should I be worried?”

“Laugh all you like,” Dis snapped without any bite. “Fili found his One last night. I think that’s reason enough to be cheerful. At least we won’t have to arrange a marriage for him now. For which I’m _very_ grateful.”

Thorin agreed.

Dwarves never favored arranged marriages, but the royal line—and this was true for _any_ race—needed to be maintained with heirs.

“She’s not of noble birth,” Dis continued, “but I doubt you’ll find that to be too much of a problem.”

“We are not Men,” Thorin reminded her. “They care for class and position more than they do for love. Do you intend to visit her family?”

“I do.”

“Don’t scare them, then.”

He turned back to the parchment before him. The ink was almost completely dry.  It would do for now.

Dis peered over his shoulder.

“Is that your first courting gift?”

“A rough sketch of it.”

“I look forward to seeing the finished product then. You don’t intend to start it today? I was thinking we could go meet with the girl’s father and aunt for dinner.”

“No mother?”

“The poor woman passed when she was a little girl. She was cared for by her aunt, her father’s elder sister, while he worked in the mines after that, so it seems. Dúnris—the girl—is a weaver, if Fili is to be believed.”

“Weaver?”

“Fili met her when heading to the Ri’s last night. I doubt they’re cohorts with Dori, though.”

Thorin agreed.

Likely, they were playing card games with Nori.

“I hadn’t intended to get more than this done for today,” he said, waving the parchment at her. “Mostly because I have to hold court today, and Dain is still here, but I can call the day short and join you to meet the girl’s family if you insist on it.”

“Good.” She patted his shoulder. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll see you in the dining room in an hour, Nadad.”

Thorin crinkled his nose at her. Dis smirked before leaving.

He decided that the others he knew ought to be glad they don’t have a sister.

#

“Dúnris?” Ori asked, frowning. “Why are you planning to meet her and her family tonight?”

“Fili met her. Seems to believe she is his One,” Thorin said.

The hardness in Ori’s eyes faded and he blushed. Thorin smirked.

“Were you jealous?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, setting the books stacked in his arms on the table. “It was a foolish reaction.”

“No. It’s not,” Thorin assured him. “I’d react the same, so do not feel you have been foolish. What’s with the books?”

He stared at the stack, wondering _how_ Ori managed to carry all that.

Ori grinned.

“New shipment from the Iron Hills. They need to be read, assessed, cataloged…”

“Sounds like…fun…”

The only fun part to Thorin was the reading aspect.

“Cataloging is the easiest part, actually,” Ori admitted. “But it can’t be done until they are read. Different stories fit different audiences and therefore go in different sections. And then there are the call numbers to attend to and—it’s actually not as complicated as it sounds.”

“The call numbers sound like the most complicated part,” Thorin admitted, picking up the first book and flipping through it. “The rest, not so much.”

He put it down.

“Would you like to go to dinner with us tonight?”

“I’m not sure that’s wise. I’m not a Durin. Well, I _am_ , but…you know.”

“You are also the king’s intended,” Thorin reminded him. “So you will be family if our courtship goes well.”

“Perhaps another time,” Ori said. “It sounds more of a family event anyway, so I would feel out of place, even though I do know Dúnris. If she is Fili’s one, he’s lucky. She’ll keep him in line.” He grinned. “Better an _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ than an Elf, right?”

“Kili is _never_ going to live that down, is he?” Thorin sighed, slumping in the seat.

“Probably not,” Ori said.

“ _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ , huh?” Thorin mused.

“Every Dwarrowdam’s dream.”

“What? To rise in rank?”

Ori frowned at him. “For someone who is dreadfully romantic, you’ve no concept of romance.”

“I admit I never cared for the story. It was Dis’ favorite when we were children, but I was more likely to listen to stories about heroes and dragons rather than a story about dames.”

Ori rolled his eyes.

“Well then, that needs to be remedied, my king. If you’ll suffer a few minutes through a _boring_ story about a Dwarrowdam who became queen.”

Thorin grinned. “Enlighten me, O Scribe. What is _not_ dull about _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_?”

“Let me tell you the story and you’ll find out. Most fairy tales, like _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ , are actually quite violent, Thorin, and I’m sure the version you’re _sister_ knows is watered down. There was a time that it was _normal_ to bring up body mutilation in a story.”

Thorin winced. “Do I _want_ to know?”

“I don’t know,” Ori countered, smirking. “Do you?”

Thorin decided it was wiser not to respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know how a Fili/OC pairing showed up here…Oh well.
> 
> Yet another filler chapter…I am sorry, this is going much slower than I intended it…But thanks for putting up with it’s pace!
> 
> Âkùmin-Lukhudel = a variant of “Cinderella.” Âkùmin=dust Lukhudel=light of all lights (Ella=Eleanor, which is a variant of Helen, which means “a shining light”)


	11. Chapter 11

Dúnris had braided her thick brown hair and beard in a maiden’s fashion, and had, Thorin thought, donned her best dress. It wasn’t the same quality as the ones Dis had, but that didn’t matter. It was a lovely dark red dress with black trim. While Dúnris’ family had dressed up, Thorin and the others had dressed _down_.

Dis gave her approval the moment they walked in the door and saw the girl.

“Aye,” she began, grinning at Dúnris, “This one’s got good birthing hips.”

“ _Amad!_ ” Fili shrieked, blushing.

Dúnris blushed as well, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Well, embarrassing Fili could be left to his mother and Kili. Thorin shook hands with Drikúr, Dúnris’ father, and they began discussing dowries while Eris, the aunt, set the table with shaking hands. ]

There wasn’t much Thorin could offer even though it was significantly more than the miner’s. Drikúr and his family would be raised to nobility solely through Dúnris’ marriage to Fili. A couple chests of gold would get them started quite well, as would new fabrics for Dúnris’ wardrobe—which Thorin guessed Dis was already taking full advantage of.

He glanced at Fili and saw him sitting beside Dúnris, their hands laced together. Fili kissed her hand when he they thought no one was looking, beaming at her.

Thorin averted his gaze from his nephew and continued hashing out the marriage contract with Drikúr until dinner.

He missed Ori and wished his own intended could be here with him. He managed to get through the dinner without drawing attention to his desire to be with his scribe.

 _Still_ , he thought laughing at a story Dis shared that had Fili sinking in his seat. _It wasn’t so bad._

#

“ _Thund_ has several bases,” Nori said, “They move around. Contact is made between members transferring notes via paper, passed around.”

“Have you been contacted yet?”

“Yes,” Nori said. “I’ll be meeting with them again tonight and it’d be the best time to attack. We’ve enough to lock them away from treason, conspiracy, and murder—yes. _Murder._ Not just _attempted_ murder. I suggest keeping activity as regular as you can until eight o’clock. The meeting will have gone on for about an hour then.”

Thorin nodded. “Thank you, Nori. You may go.”

Nori disappeared into the shadows.

Thorin leaned back in his chair, facing the fire and lost in thought for a short moment. He stood and dressed in rather casual clothes, removing the telltale braids of his lineage and class, trading the gold and mithril beads for iron ones, and went to the forge to work on the dagger he meant for Ori.

The handle was almost complete as he etched divots into the gold so to add silver into the lines. He set it aside to cool again while he hammered and cut the iron into the desired shape, set on concentrating. Not that anyone could tell—Thorin had been told he only really showed an emotion other than anger when he smiled.

He wasn’t an angry person by fault. (One need only look to Fili and Kili. See them? He was a bit like Kili when he was a child before the dragon came. Jokes about what a disaster his reign would be included.) Thorin thought himself rather amiable once someone was able to look past his gruffness.

“I wondered where you were.”

He looked up and blinked. Ori leaned against the wall.

“I’m surprised Dori let you out this late. Or did you sneak away?” Thorin arched a brow. Ori grinned.

“Whoever told you that Nori was the only brother out of the three of us who was stealthy _lied_ ,” he said, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck. Thorin placed his hands on Ori’s hips. “Dori’s fast asleep and I missed you.”

“As did I,” Thorin admitted. “But how did you know I might be here?”

“Ran into Kili. He showed me where to go.” Ori kissed him. “How did the dinner with Fili’s _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ go?”

“Very well.”

“I promised you a story.”

“You did,” Thorin said. “However, I can’t listen to your tale and forge your gift at the same time.”

“Whatever it is can wait,” Ori replied, kissing him again.

“So can the story,” Thorin countered. “But since you’re here, I suppose I can take a break from it. If it’s late, know it’s your own fault for deciding to tell me a fairy tale.” Thorin said, dislodging from Ori to put the dagger away.

“Oh, very well,” Ori sighed dramatically. “I’ll tell Dori I snuck out to meet you and tell you fairy tales if it gets you out of trouble for being late with my gift.”

Thorin snorted. “You and your brothers certainly like to be dramatic.”

“It’s a family trait I’m afraid. Will that scare you off?”

“No. I’ve been called dramatic myself.”

“You _are_ dramatic, my king.” Ori said. Thorin sat, leaning against the wall and Ori joined him. “So, _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_.”

“Yes?”

“She was said to be the fairest of Dwarves. Her hair was long and her beard reached her waist. Daughters are a joy, but her hair was the shade of sunlight. Such a rare shade that she was deemed thrice the blessing as normal, the pride of her father. However, her stepmother was jealous of her beauty for her own daughter paled in comparison.

“So when her father passed, the stepmother shorn her beard and removed her braids, forcing her to wear servant’s braids and copper beads. Aye, it was a cruel fate for her. Her glorious hair was soon covered in the soot she was forced to sleep in and looked black, as she had lost her room and now slept on the cold floor of the kitchen.

“The years went by and her beard grew back, but she dared not braid it for fear of her stepmother’s wrath. She cooked, she cleaned, and she waited on her stepmother and stepsister.

“One day, an edict went through the land, saying that the King’s son was seeking a wife—for he was the only son and heir and it was his duty to continue the family line.” Thorin hummed, resting his head on Ori’s shoulder. “Every Dwarrowdam in the kingdom was expected to go to the ball but _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ was forbidden. At first she despaired, but then she decided she had had enough of her stepmother’s cruelty.

“‘I will go to the ball. My stepmother’s words are not above that of the King’s.’ When her stepmother and stepsister had left, she bathed herself in rose water, washing her hair until it again shone gold. She braided her hair and her beard, wearing her late mother’s beads as well as her father’s, hiding the bead that named her clan. _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ donned her mother’s best dress and went to the palace.

“All were in awe of her. And when the prince saw her, he named her his One. The stepmother was furious and forbade the union. For insulting the Prince’s One, she was forced to exhibit the same hurt she put on _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ on her own daughter before her own hands were cut off and she rotted in the dungeon until the day she died while her daughter lived the rest of her life in servitude to _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ , Consort to the Prince.”

Thorin hummed again.

“They say that _Âkùmin-Lukhudel_ married into Durin’s line and that that is why there are sometimes children born with gold hair.”

“Interesting idea,” Thorin said, taking Ori’s hand in his and kissing it. “Thank you for the tale. I’m afraid you almost put me to sleep.”

“Good. Stories should be soothing.”

“Then they probably shouldn’t have body mutilation.” Ori laughed into the kiss Thorin gave him. Thorin stood, offering his hand to Ori.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offered. “What’s the likelihood your brother’s woken up?”

“Since the alarm hasn’t been sounded yet, I’d say we’re safe,” Ori promised. “How’s the hunt for the…”

“Nori’s found them. A raid will be organized in the morning.”

“Be careful.”

“Oh, I won’t be leading it. _Fili_ will.” He paused, grabbing his cloak and fastening it around his shoulders. “Well, in hindsight, I _am_ , but I can’t exactly physically be in two places at once, _Ghivashel_.”

“That makes sense. You’re too busy doing work which you wish you could switch places with Fili so he can worry about running the kingdom and you can do something as interesting as leading a raid.”

Thorin snorted. “Yes, I am more action oriented than I probably should be. Fili is the same way, so as much as I’d like to, Erebor is not ready for Fili’s reign!”

“It could be worse,” Ori said as they walked up to the main level. “It could be Kili.”

“ _Mahal!_ Are you my intended or my assassin?!” Thorin shouted, covering his heart.

Ori’s shoulders shook and he covered his mouth from laughing so hard.

“So long as I live, I will _never_ let Kili sit on that throne! I love the lad, but _hammers and blood_ , no! Never! The very _thought_ makes my heart race in fear of the possibilities!”

“I’ll let Kili know you have such overwhelming confidence in him.”

“Please don’t. I don’t need his puppy eyes on me. They are a force to reckon with. If possible, armies would fall to them.”

“Cannot be king, but is obviously Middle Earth’s sweetheart.”

“I’m not going to answer that. My opinion is both torn and biased,” Thorin said, pulling Ori close to kiss him. “Very biased, but progressively less torn.”

Ori rolled his eyes, shoving him playfully. “You’re incorrigible, my lord.”

“I thought I was adorable.”

“Now you just sound conceited!”

“You love me.”

“I do,” Ori said, grinning. “I really do. You’re still conceited and incorrigible.”

“Don’t tell your brother then. He’ll force us to break our courtship and _never_ let me see you again,” Thorin replied, pulling him into another kiss.

“It might be for the best,” Ori sighed. “We are simply not suited and yet…” he snorted and Thorin couldn’t stop grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday! So here's a chapter! (true there'd have been a chapter here today anyway...but still!)


	12. Chapter 12

The tavern, newly opened, had been overrun with armed guards, led by the crown prince who stood tall, a hand on the hilt of one of his many swords (this one, a scimitar, was the only one honored to don his hip). The back door was kicked open and the guards swarmed the room.

Dwarves in black and grey stared at them for a brief moment, frozen and startled by their presence, backed away from a bound figure.

“Took you long enough, you golden haired imbecile!” Nori shrieked. “They were about to shave me!”

“Sorry, Nori,” Fili said unsheathing the scimitar, “We’ll make it up to you somehow.” He stepped further into the room. “By order of King Thorin the second son of Thrain son of Thror, all those allied with _Thund_ are under arrest for treason, conspiracy, and the attempted assassination of Lady Dis. Now, does anyone want to cooperate or are we going to fight in a bar?”

Swords and axes drawn. Fili sighed.

“You just _had_ to challenge them,” Nori growled. “Bilbo was right: you, Fili, are a dumb blond.”

“I resent that,” Fili said as the room erupted into chaos. Fili fell three men before cutting Nori’s bonds. “They found out you were the King’s spy?”

“Don’t ask me how.”

“Oh, I will ask. Just later. Duck!”

Nori spun around, slamming a knife into the leg of a Dwarf while Fili cut his neck.

They split up.

Fili had little chance to see Nori’s fighting style and such was the case now as they fought together. He could see the knives Nori favored sticking out of the injured and even some who had been killed by his aim.

His scimitar whipped through the air, parrying three blows at once before ducking and slicing off the leg of one, stabbing another, and cutting the throat of the third. He approached the one he stabbed. “Give me some shackles!” he shouted. A guard handed him a pair and he turned to lock the Dwarf’s hands…

He didn’t see the knife until it was too late. He bought himself some time, the knife missed his Jugugular vein, but it was still quite close.

Fili gasped for air, stemming the flow with his hand. A pair of arms seized him.

“Kill him!” Nori shouted right in Fili’s ear. He guessed it was Nori who caught him. “I need gin or rum,” He ordered a barmaid. “A lit candle, needle and thread, a bowl of hot water and clean linen!”

“What’re you doing?”

“Buying you some time before you bleed to death to get to a real healer. You!” He turned to a guard. “Fetch Oin! Write down that Prince Fili is injured and he’s needed immediately! Trust me, the man’s deafer than a singing cat on his best of days.”

Fili snorted.

“Good to see you’re still in bright humor, your highness.” The maid returned with the asked for items. “Thanks, luv. Hold the needed over the flame for me, will you? Thanks. Fili, turn your head this way and lower your hand. Focus on breathing.

“But—”

“This is gonna hurt either way, so bear with me. Can’t let the crown prince die on a raid after _all_ he’s been through. No. You, you gulumphing idiot, are gonna grow old enough to see your great-grandbabies and I’d rather your mum not kill me for letting you die before then.”

Fili gripped his wrist and closed his eyes as Nori wiped the blood away from his neck. The next thing he knew, apart from the pain of the cut in his neck, was a sting. He cried out.

“Someone hold him down!” Nori shouted. Three hands pinned Fili to the table and he whimpered, tears leaking out of his eyes. “Just a little more, Fili,” Nori said in a tone that almost reminded him of Dori. Fili decided not to tell that to Nori.

The stinging ebbed and his breathing eased.

“We’re not out of the woods yet, Fi,” Nori said, squeezing his shoulder as he felt something _burn_ his neck. Fili cried out. “You know, Lad, I’ve stitched up more idiots who’re worse than you. You’re actually one of the better ones.”

“Would’ve been nice to know we had another healer,” Fili said.

“Oin did just fine on his own and I wouldn’t call myself a healer. Thorin and Dwalin had made due with worse instruments in worse conditions than I am right now. Trust me…what I’m doing right now, anyone with a steady hand and cool head can do it. And like that, we bought you some time.” Fili opened his eyes. Nori kissed the maid’s hand. “Thanks again, lass. You’re a right lady.”

She looked pasty and shivered, but grinned under the praise.

“Could you get Dúnris for me?” Fili asked.

“You’ll be fine and you can see your own lass when Oin says so,” he snapped.

“Arse.”

“You love me,” Nori joked.

“Did we get everyone?” Fili asked, trying to sit up. Nori shoved him back down. “Nori—”

“Not until Oin inspects you, Fili. And I don’t know. We think so. After the whole fight, everything became a blur, but we got most of them. I’ll do a headcount to double check, okay?”

Fili nodded.

“And _don’t_ move.”

Nori approached the prisoners, counting. He counted again, paling. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“One slipped away.”

Fili groaned. “Fuck."

#

Thorin laced his vambraces tighter than usual in his hurry to the infirmary. He gave two knocks before striding inside.

“Where is Fili?”

“What?” Oin asked, holding his ear trumpet out toward him.

“ _Fili!_ ”

“He’s asleep, Thorin,” Oin said, catching his arm. “Nori’s work was a little bit crude, but he saved his life. So far there have been no signs of infection and he’s a bit pale from the blood loss. Otherwise, Fili is just fine.” Thorin pulled is arm free from Oin’s grasp and walked down the aisle between beds, stopping at one blocked by curtains.

He glanced at Oin, who nodded, and he stepped inside. Fili’s neck and shoulder was bandaged. Dis had beaten him there, holding her son’s hand in her own, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kili sat beside her, staring at his brother with a furrowed brow and frowning.

Thorin sat on the edge of the bed. Fili was very white, dark circles were stark under his eyes, and his brow shined with sweat. But his breathing was even and his sleep easy.

“Thorin.”

He glanced up at Nori. “What happened?”

“ _Thund_ resisted arrest. Several were killed. Many were injured and taken to the dungeons. Healers are working around to clock to make sure at least one of them lives for interrogation. One escaped.”

“ _What_?”

“I was busy saving you’re heir’s life,” Nori said. “So _don’t_ yell at me. We’ll find him.”

“Is the one who escaped—”

“No, the man who cut Fili was already injured by him. Either Fili got sloppy or he got lucky. He was slain right after.” Thorin closed his eyes massaging his temple. “Thorin?”

“I want those who live shaved,” Thorin said.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Nori turned to leave and Thorin sighed. “Nori, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Bring Dúnris.”

Nori bowed and left.

Thorin turned to Fili again. Still asleep. Dis whispered prayers. Kili seemed slightly vacant, intent on waiting for Fili to wake. Thorin stood and gripped his shoulder. Kili broke his concentration to look up at him. Thorin gave his shoulder a strong squeeze.

“He’ll live Oin is sure of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that while he’s on the mend, you’ll be learning how to rule in his stead if anything were to happen to him or if he were to leave.”

“Why me?”

“That is your job. And it will also be Dúnris’ when she is queen.”

Kili bit his lip. “I don’t care for the throne,” he said, “But I suppose that’s my job.”

Thorin beamed.

Kili stood. “What do I have to do?”

“For now, go get some sleep. In a bed. You’re mother and I have things covered here.”

Kili glanced at Fili one more time. He bowed to Thorin. “I will see you tomorrow morning, Uncle,” he said, walking away. Thorin waited for Kili’s footsteps, heavy on the stone floor before turning to Dis.

“If you need anything, Namadith…”

Dis took a shaky breath. “I’ll be all right. You and Kili will be busy the next few days. I’ll be here when Dúnris arrives. All right?”

Thorin nods, kissing her cheek. “Let me know if he wakes,” he said.

He left, striding out of the infirmary and back to his own rooms. There, he opened a box to examine Ori’s dagger one more time, sighing. Lightweight, easy to use, intricate design…

Everything it should be for a young scribe and the intended of the king.

He’d have to wait for the dinner he was expected to have at Dori’s to present it, but he could wait until then. The thrum of wanting to give his gift to Ori was balanced by a twinge of fear for tomorrow:

Kili was going to learn how to be a king when the king’s away.

 _Mahal help us all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow, Nori ended up being a Jack Sparrow sort of character…kinda fits.


	13. Chapter 13

“How is Fili?” Dori asked.

“Still healing,” Thorin said, handing the bread basket back to Ori, “And hating every moment of staying in the infirmary. My family has Nori to thank for his survival.”

“Nori is…unusually busy of late,” Dori mused.

“That would be my fault,” Thorin leaned back in his seat. “I was under the impression that Nori had a specific skill set and I happened to have a job that fits his skills. Taking him away from spending time with his family, sadly, is part of the job description.”

Dori blinked. “He’s not the most honest sort, given that same…skill set.”

“Nori has not disappointed me yet,” Thorin replied, tearing the bread apart with his fingers. “He’s given me no reason _not_ to trust him.” Dori shifted awkwardly and glared at Ori.

Thorin arched a brow, noting a hint of mirth in Ori’s eyes.

“I haven’t been to the library lately,” Thorin asked. “Anything new there?”

“Nope,” Ori said. “Nothing really changes. New books come in for transcribing, and sometimes rebinding, but otherwise, nothing has really changed. Save your lack of presence, your majesty. You’ve become quite the regular and your presence is missed some days.”

“Duly noted,” Thorin replied. “I will try to make an effort to come by more often when the time allows. I’m afraid there’s been something of an insurgence that has been taking up my time.”

“Nori’s job is connected, I assume?” Dori asked. Thorin nods.

“Like I said, I needed someone with his skill set.” He turned back to Ori. “I still have that book…”

“Yes, it’s overdue.”

Thorin winced. “My apologies. I will…get bring that by tomorrow…with money for the fee.”

“Thankfully I’m not the one who handles that,” Ori said, smiling. Dori shook his head.

“I’ve seen ancient _great-grandparents_ with less ice than you two.”

“Oh, we’re actually very affectionate,” Ori said. “It’s just a bit awkward when you’re around.” Dori glared at him and Ori returned the look with a smirk. Dori shifted away from Ori.

“I understand you’ve finished you’re first courting gift, Thorin?”

Thorin nodded, setting his glass down to retrieve the dagger. Dori held his hand out for it and Thorin surrendered the blade and watched his intended’s brother examine it from hilt to tip. Thorin glanced at Ori, who smiled and held up his hand, middle finger crossed over his index.

“It’s a fine blade,” Dori said with an air of finality. He handed it to Ori. “Befitting a Prince.” Thorin sighed and dropped his shoulders, feeling as though a burden had lifted from his shoulders.

Dori stood, mumbling something about tea and cake, heading into the kitchen.

“Do you like it?”

Ori pulled the dagger free of its sheath. The blade glinted gold in the candlelight. Ori held it in a similar way Thorin had seen Nori handle his own knives, beaming. “I love it.”

#

Thorin leaned on the armrest of his throne, legs crossed and staring intently at the council situated at the end. Food, as usual, was a low resource and regardless what Thorin desired, taxes were a necessity for a society, especially a new one.

“We cannot raise taxes on food,” Kili said, “The people will revolt and Erebor is still unsteady. Textiles, however…”

He glanced at Thorin, who nodded.

“Are less necessary. Finer cloth is more expensive and therefore the taxes for those are higher.”

“That singles out the upper class and not the lower.”

“It does not. There are still the food taxes. Farmers will benefit from the guilds. The guilds will benefit from the upper class.”

Only those who had spent time brought down into the lower classes—such as the Durin clan—nodded their assent. Higher taxes on essentials such as food could bring a revolt.

“Everything that is bought already has a sales tax imposed,” Kili continued. “Which goes right to us so that we may benefit the people. Already much of what is in the treasury has gone into reconstructing dangerous parts of the mountain. Most of the jobs are still strictly in lieu with that—as well as in the reconstruction of Dale. We cannot force these workers to pay more for what they need, but what is _not_ needed, I see no problem increasing such taxes.”

He glanced at Thorin again. Thorin was beaming. Life as a blacksmith had taught him much about how exploitation can only work against a government system and he had no intention of seeing it happen in Erebor again. Seems growing up lower-class had a positive effect on the boys. Somehow, Thorin couldn’t see why they joked about Kili’s ability to rule anymore. Like his brother, Kili was proving himself to be quite capable.

“Is there anything else you would discourage your highness?” One lord asked, sneering. Clearly he did not like the tax rise on textiles and the guilds Kili was suggesting.

Kili stared at him, frowning. “For now, no. I would also advise the King, however,” he turned to Thorin, “That there is no place for the council for those who encourage exploiting the lower classes. Better to implement this _now_ rather than later when my brother is King.”

Thorin arched a brow. And here he thought Kili wasn’t paying attention to anything Balin taught him. Seems the boy’s much smarter than Thorin had previously given credit for. He nodded. “Lord Bri, if you cannot stand the changes my nephew thinks to be best—changes I agree with—then you may go of your own volition. However, Kili, it is good to have those who disagree on the council.”

Bri seemed ashen at the dismissal, and did not move. Kili only nodded.

“I agree that perspective is important, but the higher classes can afford higher taxes as opposed to the lower classes and, given, your majesty, that we have spent a good number of years as part of the lower class, I do not see how Lord Bri is giving an ounce of real perspective.”

Thorin stood and descended the steps. “Lord Bri,” he said. “From your disapproval, is it safe to assume you encourage exploiting the lower class?”

“No, your majesty,” he replied.

“Then would it be that you are saying _no one_ wants higher taxes on _anything_ even though it is necessary for the good of the kingdom? That if one thing is to be given a higher tax, then _everything_ must be given a higher tax?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Kili?”

“While I understand why fairness and equality would be important, it would be counterproductive,” Kili said. “The lower class cannot afford higher taxes on essentials such as food. They need to eat. If possible, I would suggest lowering food taxes and increase the ones implemented by the guilds.”

“Exactly,” Thorin said. He squeezed Kili’s shoulder, beaming. “Other than reconstructing the kingdom, where can the money go?”

“Aiding those who have nothing,” Kili said. “Every kingdom has beggars, those cast out, lost jobs due to something…they need aid to come from somewhere. Might as well be from the taxes.”

“There is a flaw with your suggestion, Prince Kili,” Balin said, grinning just as broadly. “How many will take advantage of such a thing, your highness?”

“While I agree, Lord Balin, there is no harm in having aid available. Some are probably honest men who need work. Without it, they run the risk of turning to crime—”

“YOUR HIGHNESS!! MAJESTY!! GET DOWN!!”

Thorin and Kili were slammed to the ground. Chaos erupted through the room. Thorin twisted around and saw an arrow in the guard’s neck. He still breathed. “Kili, go—”

“But—” A guard pulled Kili up. “Uncle!”

“Just _go_!” He turned to the guard. “Take him somewhere safe!”

“But—”

“ _Kili_ , I am not asking,” Thorin shouted. He turned to another. “Get a healer!”

He looked up, Orcrist in his hand. He spied Nori running over the railing and tackle someone to the ground. Good. He turned to the guard, wheezing.

He wanted to say he’d be okay. He wanted to say it’d be all right. But he didn’t think it was. Thorin held his hand instead, praying over the guard he did not know.

By the time the healer arrived, he was dead.

#

His name was Belgol.

He had a wife, Kalea, and two sons, Alrik and Orik. Both boys were barely out into their twenties.

Thorin placed the boys under his protection, and the family was given a stipend that would see them through until Kalea could find a job—one was already offered for her in the palace as a maid under Dis (his sister’s insistence. Thorin thought it a good idea, since Kalea’s situation mimed Dis’ in many ways now) when the mourning period was over.

He was buried in the stone, _Hurmul Amradith_ , “Honorable Death that is Young,” etched as an epitaph under his name. Thorin closed his eyes, locking the guilt he felt deep inside him.

 _He shouldn’t have died,_ Thorin thought. _I should have paid more attention to my surroundings…he shouldn’t have died…_

He was jolted from his thoughts by Dis’ hand on his shoulder. “Welcome home,” she replied, sadness in her eyes. “I had hoped we’d never have to see this again, but it looks like things will never change.”

“They’ll change,” Thorin said. “I fear too slowly though. So long as there are men allied to organizations like _Thund_ , things will always change too slowly.”

He glanced at Belgol’s family. The lads stood on either side of their mother, staring at the tomb, which now held their father.

Thorin clenched his hands into fists, and closed his eyes.

He could still see another funeral, very much like this one. Except, on that day, it was Dis holding onto the hands of her own boys as Víli was buried into the rock in Belegost rather than this woman Thorin did not know very well.

He knew what she would do.

She would go home. Tuck her children into bed, and mourn at night. If she was anything like his sister, she would mourn at night where her children could not see her tears.

Thorin sighed.

_How can I remedy this?_

_How can I stop fathers from being taken from their families too soon?_

At the moment, Thorin did not know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be up yesterday! Gah! Well, better late then never right?


	14. Chapter 14

Thorin stands outside the Ri’s house, unsure whether or not to enter. He sighs, raising his hand to knock when the door opens and Ori stands before him.

“How long have you been standing here?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Thorin admits.

“Do you want to come in? Dori’s asleep—busy day at the shop and all.”

“It’s almost midnight, Ori,” Thorin said, not moving though Ori’s stepped aside for him.

“Is it?” he asked. “I didn’t realize.” Thorin entered the room. The floor was swept, the chairs set on top of tables. “You look like you could use a drink,” he said, leading Thorin into the kitchen. “Would you like tea or ale? I know where Dori keeps it even if he’d rather I not know of it.”

“Ori, I—”

Ori turned to him and frowned. “Did something happen today?”

Thorin sighs and tells him about the assassination attempt. He tells him about Belgol’s sacrifice, what he left behind…

“I am not afraid for myself,” Thorin said. “But I am afraid for you. I have dreamt of regaining my family’s status and now that I have…Ori I love you and I need you to stay safe, but I don’t—”

Ori pressed his forehead to Thorin’s.

“You are more hopeless than I thought, my King,” he said. “Thorin, I did not join the quest with naïve thoughts of glory and honor and none of the blood on my hands—yes there is blood on them. I am a scribe who went on an adventure and had to fight in order to survive and to be of any real use besides writing down what took place. If you wish to end our courtship for the sake of protecting me then tell me, when would it ever be safe to resume it? You are the king, Thorin. It will _never_ be safe. Even before we fell in love, it was never safe.”

“Then I have been selfish.”

“You don’t want to be alone. No one does. No one will _ever_ fault you that. You can say it is selfish, true, but then so am I, and so is everyone who falls in love.” Ori backed away and leaned against the counter. “For the longest time, I wondered if trying to love you was the right thing to do. I feared you’d compare me to Bilbo or wish I could replace him.”

Thorin felt as though he’d been dunked in ice. “You knew?”

“I always knew. It was hard not to notice your disappointment that first night when he chose Dwalin. I knew he was your One. It’s my job to be observant. When we snapped out of the madness…honestly, Thorin, I’ve _never_ seen anyone as full of despair as you were during the quest. I’ve never believed anyone could feel as strongly as you do. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like seeing your One marry your closest friend and fall in love with him. I don’t know how you were able to bear it.

“When you came to me and asked to court me, I was stunned. I accepted, but I tried not to get too excited because…well, because I believed you were still in love with Bilbo. I still do sometimes. I don’t grudge you of it. I can’t imagine what it feels like losing your One to someone else.

“I feared that if I fell in love with you that I would end up cutting myself on the shards that made up your broken heart.”

Thorin stared at Ori, stunned by his confession. He stood and approached Ori, cupping his face and kissing him.

“He wasn’t my One,” Thorin said softly, pressing his forehead to Ori’s, quite aware of the bewilderment in his eyes. “I wished he was and seeing him with Dwalin did break my heart. I did want him to choose me that night. I can’t have been the only one who thought Bilbo was beautiful or beguiled by his charm, unintentional though it was, on that first night or throughout the quest. He is very loyal to those he loves and I don’t think he’d ever have eyes for Dwalin by the time he did fall in love with him.

“Yes, my heart was broken whenever I saw him with Dwalin…whenever I saw him kiss Dwalin or smile at him or even weep over him. But it was just…cracked. Until he stole from me and then I…” Thorin swallowed. “Any belief that I was worthier to have his heart shattered when I tried to kill him. Any belief that I could ever be worthy of _anyone_ was shattered when I realized what I had done.

“Ori, I will _never_ deserve you after all that I have done, and still I pursue you because _you_ are my One and I am selfish and, as you said, I don’t want to be alone. I did not know it when we met. I thought you were overeager and I feared for you, as young as you are.

“I never thought that when I was despairing over a love that would never bear fruition that I’d find my One in you. I am so used to people bending backwards to do what I demand that some _upstart_ little brat of a scribe—and I mean that in an affectionate way—would refuse to take any of my demands. You completely took me by surprise that first day in the library when you had the _audacity_ to kick me out. And after that, I was…I was lost to you, bound to you. My heart was broken, but loving you healed me. I value your opinion, but I do desire to keep you safe.”

Ori blinked. “Then may I offer some advice instead of agree to your preposterous idea to end this courtship?” Thorin nodded. Ori cleared his throat. “Instead of _that_ , I suggest you do what you have always done: anything necessary to keep your people and family safe. _Thund_ threatens the safety you are trying to build. So squash them.”

“You advise violence?”

“I advise that you prove you will not tolerate anyone who would undermine your authority and right to rule through violence against you and your people,” Ori corrected. “ _Thund_ is dangerous, Thorin. Don’t let them survive to breed more hatred and hurt more people than who has already been hurt. Show that you will not tolerate their behavior toward you and the people. They do not _care_ for the people’s safety, nor do they care that they hurt others in their crusade. There are nations that fall to such organizations because they take root and grow until the reigning king or queen is unable to stamp them out.

“Normally I would not say this. I would encourage mercy in you, my lord, if I could. But do the Dwarves of _Thund_ deserve your mercy?” Ori shook his head. “I do not think I’d be able to grant it. They seek to usurp you, Thorin, to destroy Erebor’s restoration and overthrow your rule before you can prove that you are a _just_ king. They need to be executed with their rights revoked. Thorin, they are not repentant and if _one_ Dwarf of _Thund_ thrives, the whole nation will suffer.”

Thorin closed his eyes. Do what he must…The only thing he could think of was to have them executed for the pain they had caused in such a short time…

He only hoped that was the right choice to make.

“Very well, âzyungel,” he said as he opened them again. “As you command, so it will be done. And thank you, Ori, for believing in me even when I can’t.”

#

A row of gallows were built the following day, stationed outside the mountain. Thorin watched from the balcony, frowning. A hand patted his shoulder and he glanced at Kili.

“Is this something that must be done?”

“I’m afraid so,” Thorin said. “I only hope it does not change the way the people see me.”

“It won’t. A father was killed in their attempts at killing _us_ ,” Kili said. “Uncle, I will _never_ tolerate any who’d put a child what I did when I lost my father. In a way, I think hanging might be too generous.”

Thorin spun around, seizing Kili’s cloak. “ _Quench this bloodlust now_ ,” he hissed. “You will not do anyone any favors in indulging it. Too many nations have fallen because of one’s thirst for blood and I will _not_ see it take hold in you, Kili.”

Kili nodded, bowing his head. “My apologies, Uncle,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sound as though I had…a kind of darkness in me or something like that. I just…I never knew my father and…and with the way Amad and Fili speak of him I wish I did.”

Thorin sighed and released his cloak, gently bumping his head to Kili’s.

“I have done what I could in his place and I know it is a sore imitation, Lad. But Víli would be proud of the fine Dwarf you have become.”

Kili blinked. “Actually, Uncle, I think you did well helping Amad, given the circumstances.” Thorin grinned, swelling with pride.

“The executions will be tomorrow,” he said letting Kili step back. “In the meantime, I want the guards doubled and every last member of _Thund_ who still has a beard shaved. Not one will go to his death with honor.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Kili said, bowing. He left to fulfill Thorin’s orders, barking at the others in Khuzdul. Thorin watched his youngest nephew leave.

 _Not the dwarfling who made it a habit to worry his mother into a fever,_ he noted. _Seeing it now, “King Kili” might not be as terrifying as I thought…_

The following morning was cold at dawn. Drums beat a death knell and guards stood at the ready to cut down any of _Thund_ who would dare to escape.

Thorin, Dis, and Kili watched from the balcony. When the procession had ended, Thorin nodded at Balin.

“In the name of the King,” he began, “The hereby organization named _Thund_ and all its associates are guilty of terrorism, treason, attempted assassination of the royal family, and murder. In light of these crimes, the following rights are suspended:

“The right to assembly, the right to Habeas Corpus, the right to legal counsel, and the right to pardon by jury of peers.

“By decree of the king, all associates of _Thund_ and conspirators are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.” Balin glanced at Thorin, who nodded. Balin rolled the scroll up. “May the Maker have mercy upon you,” he said before descending the podium as the first six Dwarves were lead to the gallows.

Their heads were covered by burlap sacks and nooses tightened around their necks. When the executioner pulled the lever, Thorin closed his eyes, inhaling.

He had killed before, but never like this. Never had he denied a Dwarf or Man—not even an _Orc_ —the right to not defend himself. He had heard of executions as a boy before the dragon, kept away from them, only hearing about it in secret. He never thought much about it.

But even then, he wondered if those his father and grandfather had sent to the gallows or the block had so many rights taken away.

 _Probably not_ , he thought. Such an action felt tyrannical to Thorin, and his sense of justice clashed with that of mercy.

 _Would I have taken this action had not Ori suggested it?_ He asked himself, sighing. He opened his eyes again and watched with a heavy heart.

#

Dúnris was admitted into the throne room, curled into herself from her anxiety being there. Thorin watched Kili greeted her with a kiss on her cheek before she could bow to them. Thorin couldn’t help but grin. Leave it to Kili to keep a future family member from demonstrating proper etiquette.

May the council weep ever more.

“Namadith,” he said. “How is Fili?”

“He’s awake,” she said. “Oin is looking at him right now and asked me to tell the King.”

Kili turned to him, beaming and eyes shining. It was good to see him back to his old self. “Uncle?”

“I will be there soon,” he promised. “However, I’m not responsible if you don’t tell your mother and I am quite certain someone will get tanned if she is not informed.”

Kili pulled Dúnris out of the room, running for the infirmary. Thorin leaned back, sighing, and closing his eyes. The last few days had been a little more than too stressful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Execution scene inspired by "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End"  
> Maybe a little more than "inspired"...
> 
> I will not be able to update next week, as I will be on a mission trip. However, I will get a chapter as soon as I have one ready


	15. Chapter 15

Thorin weighed the paperweight in his hand.

Made of granite, he had shaped the rock into an owl taking flight, still perched on a branch. It was, admittedly, a little large for a paperweight, but could serve as a bookend as well if Ori wished.

He finished polishing it, so the dark, speckled stone shined.

Satisfied with his work, he put it in a leather bag and went to his quarters.

He ran through the list in his head:

Bathe, dress, go to the Ri’s for dinner…

“There you are,” Dis said, walking beside him. “Where’ve you been?”

“Stone masons,” he said.

“Why? You’re a black smith.”

“That doesn’t mean I _don’t_ know how to carve stone, Dis.”

She hummed. “I suppose that’s true. Was it your second gift for Ori?”

He nodded.

“Can I see?”

Thorin sighed, slightly annoyed by her, and pulled out the figure.

Dis took it in her hands and traced the work with her finger. “It’s beautiful, Thorin.”

“Do you think he’ll…”

“Of course he will. Is it a book end?”

“I would have made two if it was. It’s a paperweight.”

“It’s a little big.”

“It can be used as a book end, though…If that’s what he uses it as, I’ll make more for him.”

Dis handed the stone owl back to him and it returned to the bag. She looped her arm through his.

“Ori will love it, Thorin,” she assured him. “Have you plans for the night?”

“I do,” he said. “I fear to think what Ori’s brothers would do I neglected to show for the dinner Dori insists I join them for.”

“Well, then I’ll go with you. The boys can handle things for an hour or two.”

“Hopefully there will still be a country to return to then.”

“I believe they are the kettles that you call black, O Pot,” she teased, stopping outside her room. “Knock on my door when it’s time to go.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Well, I know it’ll be an hour for both of us to get ready and if I don’t hear you knocking on my door within ten minutes _after_ I know I’ll just have to follow you. It’ll be like the good old days.

“Besides, you aren’t just marrying into the Ri family if things work out, Ori will officially be of the line of Durin and I’d like to know him a little better than I do all ready. Same goes for his brothers.”

Thorin chuckled, “Well then, I’ll see you in about half an hour then. I don’t take _nearly_ as long as you do, Namadith.”

“If you _rush_ me, I’ll hit you,” she threatened, entering her room.

Thorin waited for her door to close before he continued on his way to his own room.

#

Dis charms Dori easily. They discuss nearly everything under the moon from politics to different teas they happen to fancy and how to brew them for the best quality.

Nori, however, seems to develop a small crush on Dis, which Thorin doesn’t really like. But she handles him well enough and he doesn’t think Nori would _dare_ try anything if he valued his life.

Well, anything _beyond_ “harmless” flirting.

“So…spring is almost here,” Ori said to him while Dis distracted both of his older brothers. He sat beside Thorin, who wrapped his arm around Ori’s shoulders.

“And?”

“Before you write it off, just hear me out,” Ori said, wringing his hands nervously. “I know you don’t like them, but Mirkwood is allowing more than just Elves to attend this year’s Festival of Beren and Luthien and I thought…perhaps…you might like to go.”

Thorin sighed, trying to school the rage that bubbled at the _suggestion_ of going to an Elfish festival. He knew Ori meant no harm in it and that his hatred of them was something he needed to let go…

“I understand if you’d rather not…” Ori said cautiously.

Thorin glanced at him.

Ori was stiff, ready to _jump away_.

_No, no, don’t be afraid…_

_Please don’t be afraid of me…_

_I love you. Don’t shy away…_

Thorin tried to smooth out his features and keep them from showing his distaste in going to Mirkwood for _any_ event.

“I’m not really… _comfortable_ with going, Ori, but I suppose if you really wish to then we will go.”

_For you I will suffer through it. I will try to enjoy it._

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Ori,” he said. “I am sure.” He kissed Ori’s forehead. “I don’t like them, but if it ruffles some feathers…”

Ori frowned at him.

“No feather ruffling?”

“ _No_ ,” Ori says. “Absolutely _no_ ‘feather ruffling.’ If we go, you will behave yourself even if _Thranduil_ doesn’t. Honestly! Both of you need to _grow_ up.”

Thorin blinked before laughing. “I suppose we do act like children when we’re around each other.”

“You act like you’re in your twenties.”

“Mahal’s hammer, it’s not _that_ bad.”

“It is,” Ori emphasized, frowning. “Yes, the history between our races is on bad rock, but it’s been _centuries_ since this ‘war’ began. Don’t you think it’s time to put it behind us?”

Thorin sighed. “I had once, but then they abandoned us—”

“We stole from them first and then this whole…who’s the worst of us continued _back and forth_ and not everyone _blames_ them. It was a _dragon_ , Thorin. They had to choose and if we _tried_ to understand their reasoning rather than condemn them for not helping us, maybe things could start healing.

“ _Elves_ weren’t the only ones who abandoned us that day, Thorin, and the generations to come: Men and our own _kinsmen_ also left us to die in the wilderness, Thorin.”

He stared at Ori, the hard truth slammed into his face. He relaxed his shoulders and nodded.

“You are right. It is high time to let go of our bitterness. I will _try_. I cannot guarantee _they_ will.”

Ori grinned and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Âzyungel,” he said. “It means more to me than you know.”

Dori approached them. “Thorin, may I have a word in private?”

Thorin nodded, following him out onto the veranda.

“How are things with you and Ori?”

“Good,” Thorin said. “Everything is going well. Oh!” He handed Dori the bag holding the owl statue. “I take it you’d want to inspect it before I give it to Ori?”

Dori took it and opened the bag. He reached in and studied the statue.

“It’s quite fitting. The owl is often associated with wisdom and knowledge, but the bird is also a hunter.” He puts it back in the bag. “You recognize his hidden potential as a warrior?”

“He has potential and while I would like for him to take up an ax or sword—and he does have talent in using a weapon—it is clear his heart is with learning and gaining knowledge. While he is out of balance in such regard, he may find equilibrium if you would allow me to train him.”

“That may be for the best. Especially if there are more like that _group_ that went after your family…what did they call themselves again? _Thund_?”

“Yes.”

“What you did that day was harsh,” Dori said, “Executing them in that manner.”

Thorin sighed, bowing his head.

“It pains you.”

“I’ve never had to do anything like that before.”

“Why did you then?”

“Ori had…suggested I do so.”

Dori nodded.

“He can be harsh when he needs to be, but he is a historian and a writer. He _sees_ things we do not. There most likely were groups like them before and he decided, long ago, that they don’t deserve mercy if they do not practice it.”

“Do you think I did the right thing listening to him?”

“Yes,” Dori admitted. “With him, you can keep history from repeating itself and that is what we all desire to see: real change. Harsh, but necessary…Ori could be a ruthless leader if he needed to be. But I fear there are those he would make enemies of: those who do not agree with his ideas will likely go after him if he is in a position of power.”

Thorin frowned. “I won’t allow it to come to that, Dori,” he promised. “Ori will be safe and if he needs to be told he is wrong, as I often need to be told, then I will do so—especially if it means keeping him safe.”

“Good,” Dori said, handing the bag back to him. “Enjoy the Festival when you and he go. I expect him to be back before morning, though. Be aware of that.”

Thorin chuckled. “All right, Dori.”


	16. Chapter 16

The festival usually was in the forest, around the trees, but with it being opened to the other two kingdoms Thranduil allowed it to take place on the open field and along the lake. Thorin wished Nori had insisted less on the guards behind them. But they were quiet and he did order them to give him and Ori some space, which they did with some reluctance.

Most who were present were lovers. Children wove and danced around a maypole. A stage was set up over the River and actors performed plays. Most were tragic romances which made Thorin a little sick to think about. The one comedy, though, was to be presented at the end and Ori was insistent on seeing _that_. Why, Thorin wasn’t sure and Ori wasn’t explaining why he was adamant to see it.

In the meantime, he focused on winning things for his Scribe. The giant bear was wonderfully crafted, but his eyes, sadly, were still not as good as they used to be. Ori took over after Thorin failed and opted to scowl in the corner.

Ori emerged from the booth holding the bear and grinning. Thorin stared. “How…”

“My aim’s not _that_ bad even if you question my choice for a weapon,” Ori reminded him. Thorin hummed, remembering that, while Ori’s slingshot didn’t _do_ anything to a certain Warg, he did manage to hit it between the eyes.

He relieved the bear from Ori’s arms and tucking it under one of his. “Are you hungry?”

Ori nodded and led Thorin to one of the Men’s venders to retrieve something to eat.

 _It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be,_ Thorin thought, stringing a square of beef off the stick it had been impaled on as they watched jousting warriors cheered on by their partners and friends. _I wonder if there’re other combat competitions…_

“Thorin Oakenshield,” a voice behind him drawled, sending unpleasant shivers up his spine.

 _Drat it all!_ He turned to Thranduil, scowling. “Good afternoon, Thranduil,” he said, trying to put as much cordiality into his voice as he could. It still sounded icy.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“More than I thought I would,” Thorin said, “I doubted an Elf would know how to throw a party…as it is, so far I’m impressed.” And _oh_ it hurt to say it. Thranduil was understandably shocked.

“Well…there’s a swordsman contest after this and they need one more fighter if you are interested.”

Thorin bowed. “I graciously accept.”

“Follow me.”

He handed the bear to Ori, who grinned. _Very good,_ he signed, _now kick their butts._ Thorin smirked and followed Thranduil to a tent where other swordsmen put on their armor.

“We weren’t expecting any Dwarves to attend,” Thranduil said.

“That is fine,” Thorin replied, removing his coat. “I’m still a bit used to travelling around in armor anyway. You intend to fight?”

“My son decided to be an upstart,” Thranduil admitted, “He made light of my age and…well. I have to prove him wrong _some_ time.” Thorin tried not to snort at that. Of course the younger generations would poke. Despite that they’ve seen him fight numerous times, his nephews _loved_ poking fun at his age.

The competitors were called out one by one for their combat. When it came to his first battle, Thorin was last, facing a large Man with a broadsword. He reached for Orcrist strapped to his back.

“The fight is to the Knight’s Code and to first blood,” came the order from the audience. “Begin!”

He pulled Orcrist free in time to dodge his opponent. He swung Orcrist down on the Man’s arm, and was blocked. The broadsword slammed against the flat of Orcrist. The swords sang. With a roar, Thorin shoved the man back and slashed Orcrist from his left to the right. The Man barely dodged, shoulder bleeding profusely.

He won the second round two and the one after that. During the break, he cleaned Orcrist.

“What are your plans after this?” Thranduil asked, entering the tent.

“My companion wants to see the comedic play.”

“Huh, I dare say he should want to: the script was his. He’s quite talented with a pen.”

“It’s…he never…that little…” Thorin sighed.

“Perhaps he wanted to surprise you,” Thranduil said.

Thorin sheathed Orcrist and stood. “Perhaps. Who are you facing this round?”

“Legolas, actually,” Thranduil said, smirking. “And a good thing too, at least this way I can wallop his sorry behind back to the forest.”

“Don’t be sore over something he said.”

“Of course not! I’m more miffed than sore. However, I can’t exactly let him off for insubordination. Good luck in the next round.”

“Aye,” Thorin said. _How odd is this!_ he thought, poking his head out to watch the fight between Thranduil and Legolas. He never pegged for the prince of Mirkwood to be a swordsman. But he held two Elfish short swords in hand, raised and poised.

Their fight was similar to a dance, each step they took created an equilibrium between them. Thorin crossed his arms and leaned back against a pillar. He usually felt this when watching Fili or Kili spar with Dwalin back when they were younger. Usually, a father would _not_ teach the son. Especially if the father was a king: there was usually too much to be done.

Though Thorin could not tell _how_ Thranduil managed to do it, he somehow managed to find the time to train Legolas in person.

It’d be an interesting fight to watch, and it’d be very close. The student can only be as good as the master, after all. Legolas would have his youth and vigor on his side. However, Thranduil would have patience and knowledge on his—knowledge in that he would _know_ how his son fought—

_Did the whelp just…oh…_

Thorin sucked in a breath when Legolas stared at the blade pressed to his shoulder.

“ _Tûrdhir_ ,” he said. Thranduil sheathed his blade and helped Legolas to his feet. The youth approached Thorin. “Enjoying yourself so far?”

“Are you? Why did you throw the fight?”

Legolas shrugged. “He’s my father. I didn’t want to hurt him. He probably knows anyway.” He entered the tent.

Thorin stepped into the arena again. If he won this round, he’d fight Thranduil. The thought curled his lip. Truce or not, it’d be _good_ to trounce his pretty arse in front of his loyal subjects.

All in the name of “sportsmanship” of course.

His opponent was also a Dwarf. With yellow hair and—“ _Fili!_ ”

“Hi, Uncle,” Fili said, smirking at him, the flat of his sword resting against his shoulder.

“When did you… _Why_ are you here?”

“Same reason as you, I’d imagine: I’m on a date.”

“You’re supposed to be back in the infirmary resting!”

“Mahal’s hammer! I’m _fine!_ ” he insisted. Thorin grit his teeth. “Just don’t start whining when I beat your old arse the ground, _gamilûn_ ,” he taunted.

Thorin pulled Orcrist free. _I’ll show you “gamil,”_ he vowed.

The bell rang and they charged, swords clang and sang in the air. Fili smirked through the fight, even when Thorin forced him on the defensive. The lad wasn’t pulling any stops. Unlike the Elf and his heir, Thorin doubted that Fili would throw the fight. Smirk or no smirk, Fili was determined to win.

 _Over my dead body_ , Thorin thought, feinting to the left. He nicked Fili’s leg and Fili hissed, staring at his leg as blood drenched his leg. He glared at Thorin.

Thorin patted Fili’s shoulder and head butted him. “You are still healing. You’re lucky you made it this far. Now you and Dúnris better get your butts back to the castle before your mother finds out and tears the mountain apart. _After_ you get the cut looked at.”

Fili sighed. “Good luck in the finals, Uncle. Kick Elven ass.”

“Trust me, I will,” he promised walking Fili off the field.

He’d have ten minutes to cool down and to wipe Orcrist down. He spent the time listening to Dúnris snap at Fili for being reckless and that he was lucky his last fight ended up being with his uncle. Some words about being a dunderheaded idiot were thrown about.

Fili had chosen well.

At the bell, he stepped into the arena for a last time, he spied Ori in the crowd, joined by Fili and Dúnris. Well, so long as they went home _soon_ , he could allow it. Thranduil held his sword in hand.

“The battle is by the Knights Code and to first blood,” Legolas shouted. “Begin!”

The bell rang once more and swords were pointed at each other. Thorin charged. Thranduil deflected. Their swords connected with a loud clang. Thorin pulled away when Thranduil lunged in. He dodged to the side and jabbed Orcrist at Thranduil’s arm. Thranduil jumped out of the way, bringing his blade down on Thorin, who parried the blow. They broke apart, and Thorin reevaluated his opponent.

Thranduil was, admittedly, a good swordsman. Thorin knew his best bet was to use the height against him. However, Thranduil clearly knew that was Thorin’s tactic. The smaller the person, the more likely they are to use size against them.

However, Thorin noted that Thranduil’s back was usually unguarded. Either he didn’t think Thorin would attack there _or_ his armor was sufficient against attacks from behind. _Wouldn’t hurt to test_ , he decided. Thorin ran at him again and feinted to the right, slamming Orcrist into Thranduil’s back and side. The back was protected, but the side was not.

Thranduil seized his ribs, gnashing his teeth at Thorin. He schooled himself and straightened. “Congratulations, Thorin.”

Oh, if only he didn’t promise Ori he’d behave himself. A little taunting never hurt, but he dared not risk Ori’s ire, opting to bow to Thranduil instead and help him get to the medical tent. There was a little more blood then necessary.

#

“A maiden ought to be poised, collected,” the actor mused, scratching his chin. “Silent in all things and an image of Yavanna herself. Wouldn’t you agree Tristeth?”

Tristeth, in reality, was a lady named Ariana. The actress shook her head. “I would say that your image of a lady is far from realistic, Sire,” she said. “For instance, my sister is the fairest Dwarf in all of Middle Earth with suitors lining the streets miles long! Her beard is well combed and immaculately braided…and her eyes shine like diamonds! However, she is also the loudest, most boisterous lass you ever did meet, and could rip your head off clean! Personally, my lord, I learned not to fancy a lady by her appearance but by her smarts and value a woman who knows her thoughts.”

Ori was trying to sink into his seat. Thorin leaned in. “Is it not to your liking?”

“No. I just…wrote it. After that, it’s all them. I wasn’t thinking it’d be this embarrassing to watch despite having had no part of the production itself. I had _hoped_ I’d be able to detach myself a little bit. The performance itself, however, is not bad…but some of the dialogue _really_ makes me want to rip it up and try again.”

Several chuckles waved through the crowd when the King wrapped his arm around Ariana, dragging her around the stage.

“I’d have to stop you then,” Thorin said. “It’s actually quite witty.”

Ori shrugged, clearly not believing him. Thorin took his hand in his and kissed it. “I love you, _Ghivashel_ ,” he said. “And you are a skilled writer. Do not be so hard on yourself.” Ori smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

Thorin kissed his forehead. He reached for the bag holding the owl statue. “I was going to wait a little longer before I gave this to you, but I suppose now will do.” He handed it to Ori, and watching him open it. Ori’s smile widened.

“It’s beautiful, Thorin. Thank you.” Thorin kissed him again and they turned back to the play just as loud laughter echoed through the amphitheater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tûrdhir=Sindarin, very loosely means “I surrender”   
> Gamilûn=Khuzdul, "old man"


	17. Chapter 17

April rain showered down over the fields outside the mountain, making the outer walkways slippery to venture on.

At the gate, guards stood post, counting families, checking papers and slowly allowing Dwarves back into the mountain when room and food could be afforded.

Thorin knew it would take time to reestablish Erebor to the glory it once had, but he also knew that there was only so much he could maintain where his people were concerned. 

There was little time for anything outside of ruling the kingdom and it wore down on his shoulders.

His sister and nephews helped however they could.

Fili and Kili were busy securing trade agreements and had often expressed their worry in getting them as the negotiations were going far too slow. Their mother assured them they were doing fine, but were being underestimated because of their age.

Dis, however, was already maintaining the reestablishment of the guilds with success, so their own exports were steadily returning.

Still, Thorin’s stress levels were rising and without an outlet to let them out with—whether in the training ground or by borrowing another book from the library—his temper flared faster.

On this dreary day, Thorin paced his chambers like a caged animal, muttering curses and threats under his breath. A tentative knock at his door alerted him to a visitor.

“Come in,” he said, trying to rein in his frustration and anger.

A servant bowed, stepping aside for Ori. The servant left, closing the door behind them. Thorin sat down in his chair at the hearth and Ori approached.

“Hello, Ghivashel,” he said tiredly.

Ori pulled another chair over, the back of it facing Thorin as he straddled it, leaning on the headrest with his arms.

“Dis asked me to come,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Thorin leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Depends on your definition of all right,” he replied. “Erebor is prospering a little more each day. And that’s good. It’s very good, but our old alliances are…well…”

“Being difficult,” Ori supplied.

Thorin scoffed. “That’s one word for it.” He leaned back. “Fili and Kili are handling them well enough, and you’d think they’d have _some_ respect from…” he closed his eyes. “I’m tired.”

“Then take tomorrow off.”

“I can’t exactly abuse my power like that.”

“You aren’t,” Ori said. “Thorin, you need to take a break. Sleep in tomorrow morning, eat as much as you want, go to the training grounds…you need to rest and you need to relax, so why not do so? You need it. Tell Balin to cut you some slack. Establish _normal_ hours. Remember to eat—what’s so funny?”

Thorin shook his head. “Nothing, Ori. Nothing,” he sighed, sitting straight. He managed to give Ori a small smile despite feeling nothing close to wanting to smile. “You are right. I need to rest.”

“I’m glad you recognize that. But _will_ you?”

“If I say no, will you spend the day with me?”

“Sadly, I can’t exactly take a day off without prior notice to the head librarian. But I _can_ sic Dori on you. Or Nori.” He smirked. “I might just have _Dis_ make sure you rest.”

“My beloved is a cruel one.”

“I can be if I need to be,” Ori agreed, grinning. He stood, reaching into his pocket and pulled out letter. “This came to Dis earlier today. She asked me to give them to you.”

He handed it to Thorin and he took it. “What is it?” Thorin asked.

“Other than a letter of some kind?” Ori said. He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s no handwriting I know.”

Thorin peered at it. “It’s from the Shire. Dwalin wrote this.”

“Do you want me to go?” Ori asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Thorin shook his head. “No,” Thorin said. “Stay a little longer.” He opened it, skimming the contents.

 _Thank you,_ it read, _I know we did not part on the best of terms, Bâhel, and I hope we can reconcile some day. But I thank you for the help you sent us…_

“Do you still love him?”

Thorin looked at Ori. “What?”

“Bilbo. Do you still love him?” he repeated, playing with a lose string in his knit cardigan. “I wouldn’t blame you if you do. And I won’t be mad if you are. But I…”

Thorin set the letter down and stood, pulling Ori into his arms and kissing him.

He hoped Ori would get over this insecurity of being Thorin’s second love. He hoped Ori would realize that despite coming after Bilbo, Thorin didn’t love him less or was trying to replace Bilbo with him.

He lifted Ori up and walked to the bed, dropping him down before crawling over him. Ori avoided his gaze, frowning.

“Look at me,” Thorin demanded.

Ori blinked and turned his head to meet Thorin’s eyes.

“ _You_ are my One, Ori. _You_ are mine and _I_ am _yours._ ”

He cupped Ori’s cheek.

“I will not deny having loved Bilbo. I did love him though he was not mine to love. He never was going to be. But I _love you_. I love you, Ori. More than I thought I ever could love someone. _You_ pulled me out of my darkness when I thought I would fade because of what I thought I felt for him. I thought he was my one, but I was wrong. It was _you_ all along.”

“I should go—”

“Stay,” Thorin said. “Stay with me tonight. I will deal with Dori if it comes to that.”

 _It most certainly will. And that should scare me more than it does,_ he thought as Ori nods his agreement. Thorin kissed him again, sliding a hand under Ori’s cardigan…

#

“There is talk about you getting married,” Dis said.

“I’m getting there, dear sister,” Thorin replied flatly, signing another paper. He places it on top of a stack of what has already been signed.

“To a dwarrowdam,” she clarified.

Thorin’s head snapped up and the quill dropped from his hand, blotting a word on the meticulously written parchment.

“Surely they’ve mistaken me for Fili.”

“I thought so to,” she said. “But then I asked Vrir…and Fotri and Roctur. In the end, I asked the council as a whole. They know Fili has chosen a wife and they are accepting of Dúnris and that is good. I’d not have it any other way. But they are conspiring to have you marry a dam and have a child of your own.”

“Did you tell them that I have also found my One?”

She nodded. “I did. They are looking to the laws to stop more ‘common blood’ from marrying into the Durin line.”

“Ori is _hardly_ ‘common,’” Thorin growled.

“I agree. The Ri line may have…suspicious origins, but they are _not_ common in the least. It’s quite the opposite. I did tell them this, but they are against you and Ori. I’m about ready to pull my sword on them. I like Ori enough and his brothers are delightful…well, _Dori_ is delightful. Nori’s just a nuisance.”

“Good,” Thorin growled. “I will be having words with them first chance I get.”

“Can I be there when you do?” Dis asked. “I need a good laugh.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Dis.”

He turned back to the paper and frowned. Balin was going to skin him alive when he saw this…he held it up to Dis.

“Do you know what this one was about?”

“No,” she said, smirking. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Thorin glared at her. “Bitch.”

“Now, don’t go splitting hairs here,” she said, “I believe I was the brat and _you_ were the bitch according to Frerin.”

Thorin gave her a scathing glare which only made her giggle. She stood and made a dignified retreat.

“Have a good afternoon, Nadad. I’ll see you at dinner. Now…where did my sons go?”

He hoped Fili and Kili gave her as much hell as they enjoyed giving him on their best days.

Sighing, Thorin left the papers where they were and put his inkwell away and decided to go to the forges.

He changed into leather trousers and a black tunic before he left, braiding his hair out of his face.

When he arrived, the smiths stopped their work and bowed to him as he passed by to his own forge.

He stripped out of his tunic and went to work, heating the forge until it blaze as hot as the other furnaces around him and began do design the bead he hoped to make for Ori.

It would be silver and sapphire…and small so that it could be braided into Ori’s beard. He would etch the rune of Durin’s line on one side of the bead and the rune of the Ri clan on the other to better indicate the unity he desired in his marriage.

Thorin blinked, startled by how his thoughts seemed to catch him off guard.

 _Marriage_.

Once he designed this bead and let Dori inspect the craftsmanship, he would—Thorin hoped—allow Ori to become Thorin’s consort and husband.

To have Ori in his arms again…

To relish in the joy of waking up in Ori’s arms…

To kiss him freely…

His heart fluttered and leapt.

He had thought that the idea of marriage would frighten him once. But that was many years ago when he was about Kili’s age. Or was it Fili’s?

He didn’t remember.

It was so long ago anyway.

Thorin made some final adjustments to the design before constructing the iron model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bâhel=friend of all friends/best friend


	18. Chapter 18

The final product was reinforced by iron with two lines of silver at the top and at the bottom of the bead. The wide middle of it was sapphire with the runes for both clans etched in silver.

Dori turned it in his fingers, weighing it carefully with a frown. Thorin watched from his seat in Dori’s shop.

“For a blacksmith, this is quite good,” Dori said. He handed the bead back to Thorin. “I didn’t think you knew how to make jewelry.”

“Kili showed me a few things when he was still an apprentice,” Thorin said. “After that, it wasn’t much different than smithing a bead.”

“It’s reinforced in iron, though.”

“Only enough to give it stability,” Thorin said. “It won’t weigh down on Ori’s hair too much.” Dori hummed, sitting across from him.

“I heard the court is giving you trouble. Is everything all right?”

Thorin chuckled.

“They want me to court and marry a dam. I do not know what it is they have against Ori, but I have no intention of letting them interfere.  I do not need heirs as I already have them nor am I inclined toward the opposite sex. In addition, I am happy with Ori.”

Dori hummed. “You do not intend to let them dictate what you should do?”

“I do not. Why should it matter what family my One comes from? I’m sure they had ‘common blood’ marry into their families before. I can attest many families, both noble and common, have married into the Durin family. Besides, I love Ori. Why should I settle for anyone else?”

Dori smiled at him.

“You’ve changed and for the better, I think. Regardless what your council thinks, Erebor already prospers with Ori by your side. It helps a little knowing that you love my brother, Thorin. Do me one favor though.”

“Of course.”

“Make sure my little brother gets his sleep. He sometimes will stay up far past a normal hour busy writing. And trust me: those knit gloves aren’t just for keeping his hands warm. Has to be a miracle his hands haven’t paralyzed yet.”

“What?”

“It’s a common occurrence with some scribes lost their ability to write because their hands start to numb or tingle from the wrist.”

Thorin chewed the inside of his lip. He wondered if that had something to do with how much his wrists ached themselves…he pushed the thought aside.

“I’ll do that. And thanks for telling me. I wouldn’t have guessed that could happen.” He stood. “I need to get back to the palace.”

“Of course,” Dori said, standing. He led Thorin down the stairs. He opened the door for him. “Have a good evening, your majesty.”

“You as well, Dori,” Thorin said, squeezing his shoulder.

#

“You are _not_ just going to hand him the bead,” Dis snarled. Thorin looked up from the papers on his desk. “Ori deserve a little more romance than _that_!”

“Well, hello, dear sister mine. How is your day going? Have you completely forgotten what small-talk is and why it is a necessary talent?”

“Ha! Your humor has greatly improved,” she said with a healthy dose of layered sarcasm.

“What makes you think I was just going to see him at work and give him the bead?”

“Oh, I don’t know…you’ve done it once, did you not?”

“Yes; when I asked him if I may court him.”

“Aye and probably with the tact that could make a rabid raccoon look respectable. Am I right?” Dis asked. She pulled a chair up. “You are taking a day off to spend with him by the river far from civilization and with lots of food.”

“You want me to propose to him while on a picnic?” Thorin deadpanned.

“And I already fear for you if you do not think _that_ romantic. Thank goodness someone in this family has a lick of sense. Otherwise, Erebor would have been doomed to crumble to dust the moment you arrived in these halls!”

Thorin winced, staring at the papers on his desk.

“That was poorly worded,” Dis said quietly. “I’m sorry, _Nadad_.”

“No…it’s fine,” he said. “That you managed to joke about it is encouraging in a way. You don’t believe I’ll fall prey to it again.”

“Do you?”

“Every day and it frightens me. I am frightened what I would do if I did. I don’t…” he sighed, retrieving the bead and holding it between his fingers. “To be honest, Dis, I’m afraid to take this next step—not because I do not know if I want to marry Ori. I haven’t thought much about marriage but when I do and when I think of Ori, I’m more marveled that he might be willing to be my husband and I feel a bit horrid. He’s very young…

“But I fell to the madness once. I cannot imagine what would happen if I fell to the madness again and I fear what I would do. The last time I went mad I almost killed someone I loved. I’m afraid that will happen again. I’m terrified of what I would do to Ori if it happened again.”

Dis stood and walked around the desk. She leaned against it and tilted his head up to meet her eyes.

“ _Nadad_ , you _won’t_ succumb to it again. You love Ori and he loves you and he makes you smile. That’s all you need. Grandfather lost that when our grandmother passed away. I don’t know what made you fall the first time, but you overcame it.

“You overcame it and look at you now: you are a good king and you have a lad who can rule by your side, is smart and knowledgeable, and is willing to put up with your crap, strangely enough. How he manages it, I will _never_ know. And that is saying something because I’ve known you my entire life. He trusts you won’t fall again, Thorin.

“So trust in his trust. And in mine. In the small chance that you _do_ succumb to the sickness again, Ori and I will overthrow you to make sure you don’t drive Erebor into another recession and summon another dragon.”

Thorin shook his head.

“And here I thought it was a nice moment and then you _had_ to ruin it.”

“It’s my lot in life,” Dis said, patting his cheek. “And if you’re old then what does that make me?”

Thorin grinned, despite knowing he’d regret the next words out of his mouth: “A crone.”

#

“Ah! Thorin, there you— _what happened to your cheek_?!” Balin asked. Thorin rubbed it.

“I antagonized Dis.”

“It better have been well deserved,” Balin said, crossing his arms.

“It was. Trust me, it was.”

Balin sighed.

“Your advisors are waiting for you to state your reasons for marrying Ori. Most of them aren’t pleased with your decision.”

“Of course they aren’t. They’d rather I marry some woman who would rather live her years in comfort and luxury than a young Dwarf who has already aided Erebor’s growth in more ways than one.”

“They believe Ori is too harsh. Thund’s eradication is their proof of it.”

“And if Thund was left to thrive, I fear what could have happened. So long as a harsh ruler is not a tyrant, I do not see the problem.”

“Save where to find the balance between a harsh king and a tyrant,” Balin said.

“I trust Ori knows where the boundary is,” Thorin said. “He is too kindhearted for his own good. But harsh when he needs to be. And we cannot really say that Thund’s fate was not deserved.”

“No,” Balin agreed. “I suppose we cannot.”

“Is that their only argument against my courting Ori?”

“That and his being a Dwarrow rather than a Dam.”

They entered the throne room and the council waited for Thorin to approach. He sat at the head of the table and let them join him.

“It has come to my attention that you have some…concerns about my courtship of Ori son of Riika,” Thorin began. “I would like to hear these concerns myself.”

They spoke and what they told him matched what Dis told him. And what Balin told him. He listened quietly before leaning back. He felt oddly calm. Perhaps it was because he knew where they found their reasoning and could agree with their concerns.

“I understand,” he said. “However, is it not true that _I_ have the final say in what happens to criminals who would see our home ravaged and burned? Who promote anarchy? Who murder civilians in the crossfire without a care?

“Ori made a suggestion to me which was based on evidence he found. He saw a pattern being repeated and advised that I nip it in the bud before it chaos descended on our home again. He is a scribe and a historian, and he is a smart lad. I trusted his judgment. Ori is also very humble and softhearted. He would not have asked me to consider executing traitors unless he believed it was the only route to secure Erebor’s safety.

“Ori rarely ever gives me advice on how to rule my kingdom unless I have asked for it. I did approach him and inform him of Thund and he suggested based on what he has noticed happen repeatedly in the past was happening again. If he had not suggested a harsh outcome, would Erebor be in the state of peace it is in right now?

“I do not think that your worries about my intended are founded. Nor is the need for me to have heirs. I have heirs and you are mistaken if you think that Fili or Kili will try to usurp me. I have raised those two as if they were my own sons and Fili is to be married to a Dam. The line of Durin is secured through my nephews. Furthermore, Ori is my One and I am his. Why should I be denied what you are willing to allow my nephew because I am the king and he is not?”

He waited for answers, for outrage. None came. They glanced at each other and one by one, bowed, and left. Balin was looking at him as though Thorin had grown an extra head. He could guess why. He never used to handle them _this_ maturely.

Once the council had left, Thorin stood. “Balin, when is my next day off?”

“In two days,” Balin said. “Your sister already requested it. I’m not sure why.” Thorin groaned. “What is it?”

“She wants me to take Ori on a picnic and propose _then._ ”

“What’s so bad about that? A picnic would be a lovely idea!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dori’s request is asking Thorin to make sure that Ori doesn’t get Carpal Tunnel Syndrome (“Chronic pain, numbness, or tingling in the hand, caused by compression of the median nerve in the wrist. It can be caused by repetitive bending and extension of the wrist, as in keyboarding, or by medical conditions such as rheumatoid arthritis and diabetes”)…but whether writing a lot actually causes it, I cannot say…Anyway, Ori’s knit gloves are actually wrist braces. :D
> 
> My brother’s girlfriend just happened to mention that she’s surprised that, with how much writing I do (for this, for school, both electronic and handwritten), I have not gotten CTS yet. Doesn’t mean my hands are perfect. I’m left handed and my left middle finger is callused at the top knuckle and my right thumb is more flexible than my left…*shrugs*


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter...I know. I simply didn't know what else to put in here...

The picnic, Thorin decided, was not as bad an idea as he first thought. It was blissfully bright spring day: neither too cold nor warm.

Ori buried his nose in his notebook, drawing the scenery he could, though there was not much.

Thorin was content to nap after they had eaten, allowing Ori to draw in silence and for him to feel the sun on his face.

“Are you going to sleep all day?”

Thorin opened an eye to look at Ori. “And what else do you suggest we do?”

“We could go swimming,” Ori suggested.

Thorin arched a brow.

The river’s currents weren’t too strong here. They slapped against the shores, drenching rocks into smooth, slippery stones. And the sun shone down on them, warm and inviting.

However it was early enough that the river was still quite chilly.

 “Sure,” he said. “If you’re okay with getting hypothermia.”

Ori rolled his eyes. “You’re as bad as _Dori_ when it comes to this sort of thing!”

“I resent that. I’m _much_ more fun,” Thorin said.

“Oh really?”

“I went to that nancy Elfish festival with you, didn’t I? _And_ I had fun there.”

“You beat the Elves in a sword fighting tournament. Of _course_ you had fun,” Ori said, closing his book. “I’m going for a swim. If you want to join me, you’re welcome to, my lord.”

Thorin scowled at Ori’s cheek, sitting up to watch him disrobe and walk into the river. He disappeared under the surface. Ori came up a little while later, ridding his hair and beard of excess water.

Thorin watched Ori swim a few laps.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to join me?” Ori asked, wading in the deep center of the river. “The water’s not as bad as you make it out to be.”

“Perhaps once your body adjusts,” Thorin said. “I would rather only bother with freezing cold temperatures if the need required.”

And there were those eyes and the frown…

Thorin groaned.

He was _not_ going to be done in by a pout and puppy eyes! He lived with _Kili_ for the love of Mahal! He could resist Ori’s eyes, damn it!

“Please?”

 _Then again, maybe not_ , he thought with a sigh.

Thorin stood and shucked his clothes, heading into the river and ignoring Ori’s grin.

The water was freezing and he glared at Ori. “

You’re _mad_ to think anyone could get used to this.”

Ori rolled his eyes and swam closer as Thorin waded in.

Ori grabbed his wrist and yanked.

Thorin did _not_ flail. Did he get all the way in the water, yes, but he did not flail.

He resurfaced, gasping at the chills crawling up his skin glaring at a giggling scribe who swam backwards as though expected retribution (and he should).

A mischievous grin etched on Ori’s face as he tried to put some distance between him and Thorin.

Thorin submerged underwater and swam fast to a very confused and anxious Ori, pulling him under with him. Ori looked startled and kicked Thorin, propelling himself away.

Thorin grabbed his ankle to keep him from escaping and broke the water’s surface to be splashed with a strong spray of water.

He sputtered, wiping water out of his eyes and spitting to rid the taste of salt in his mouth before engaging in a war with Ori, splashing water at each other and laughing.

Thorin grabbed Ori around the waist flinging him into the water.

Ori screeched, arms flapping like a bird as he slammed into the river’s surface.

Thorin swam over to where Ori had landed, his grin subsiding when Ori didn’t resurface.

“Ori?”

_Oh no…no, no, no, calm down…_

“Ori?” the water was still.

Thorin scanned the river for a shadow, a ripple, anything.

“ _Ori_!”

Hands seized his shoulders and pushed him down. He was released and Thorin broke the surface. Ori laughed. Thorin glared at him. A smirk curved the corners of his mouth.

“You will _pay_ for this.”

“If I recall correctly, you’re not the king today,” Ori retorted.

“And you almost scared me half to death!” Thorin snapped, adding a little too much bite.

Ori blinked, pouting. “I didn’t mean to scare you _that_ badly. I’m sorry.”

Thorin swam over and pulled him close, resting his forehead on Ori’s and his hands gripping Ori’s triceps in a firm yet gentle hold.

“And I’m sorry for yelling.”

“That was actually the desired reaction, but I didn’t think you thought my swimming ability was _that_ bad even after the quest.”

Thorin huffed. “I should have remembered that. It’s hard to forget how many times my nephews nearly drowned you during it.”

“In their defense, I played just as rough. It was necessary. Dori gave up halfway through the first one when he realized I was actually having fun.”

Thorin snorted. “I suppose I should have paid a mite more attention to what my nephews were doing behind my back.”

“It wouldn’t have stopped them. I don’t see the point in bothering to try. So long as I’m _not_ in the crossfire, I’m happy.”

Thorin threw his head back and laughed.

Ori broke out of Thorin’s hold hiding his face in the crook of his arm and sneezed loudly. 

Thorin guided him back to shore. “Come on,” Thorin said. “Let’s warm up and I think Bombur packed some pie. Or cake.”

“Pie,” Ori said, climbing onto the grass and gathering his clothes. “There was cherry pie.”

Thorin hummed in response.

Ori pulled his trousers on and collapsed onto the blanket. He was drying quickly, thanks to the bright sun, but still shivered.

Thorin set his coat on Ori’s shoulders, kissing his cheek and rubbing his arms to help him warm up.

“Better?”

“Much, thanks,” Ori said, smiling at him.

Thorin sat beside him, cupping Ori’s cheek to kiss him. After their lips met, Thorin moved his hand to the back of Ori’s neck to deepen the kiss.

“ _Men lananubukhs menu_ ,” he whispered. “ _Men lananubukhs menu, men kirthâl. Menu ruthukh kidhuz…_ ”

Ori grinned against Thorin’s mouth.

Thorin pulled away, lying on his side and his head propped up on his hand.

“I’ve something for you, in my left pocket.”

Ori reached into the pocket and pulled out the small bag. He glanced at Thorin once before opening it and letting the bead fall into the palm of his hand.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“What else would it be?” Thorin asked.

He wished his blood didn’t rush through his ears so, nor that his heart pounded so violently as Ori turned the bead between his fingers, a look that may have been readable if Thorin wasn’t holding his breath.

Ori beamed at him, his eyes shining. “Are you going to keep staring or will you actually _ask_ me, Thorin?”

Thorin swallowed.

“Ori, son of Riika,” he said. All things considered, he was pleased he managed to keep his voice from quavering. “Will you be my husband and consort?”

Ori leaned in and kissed him. “Yes, I would love that,” he said. “I would love to be your husband, _men melhekh_.”

Thorin grinned, anxiety melting to leave a feeling of air and lightness. He wrapped an arm around Ori’s waist and kissed him again, pushing Ori onto his back.

#

The braid was in front of Ori’s right ear, gleaming in the light and easy to find. Thorin couldn’t tear his eyes away from it hanging from his One’s hair and holding his marriage braid intact.

Ori bore it with pride that was simply… _Ori_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Khuzdul~
> 
> Men lananubukhs menu, men kirthâl. Menu ruthukh kidhuz=I love you, my scribe. Your hands are golden
> 
> Men melhekh=my king


	20. Chapter 20

“…I’m thinking ten wild boars,” Dis said. “Would that be a tad excessive? Forget it, we can afford it.”

“Dis.”

“The distilleries will have twenty or thirty kegs of the finest liquor available the night before. It’s tight, but nothing to worry about.”

“Dis.”

“There was a suggestion of using an archway made of branches…Why branches? The stonemasons are making one of gold and silver. We could use that for Fili’s wedding too—”

“ _Dis!_ ”

“What?”

“Ori wants a private wedding. You know: friends and family only. We’re not inviting all of the seven kingdoms! It’s just you, the boys, Balin, Dori, Nori, Dain, Thorin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Bombur’s family, Oin, Gloin, Gloin’s family…all in all: there’s only twenty-four…maybe twenty-five people total! We do not need ten boars.”

“The people will want to be at the feast! Even if the ceremony is private, the reception doesn’t have to be. Besides, you’re the king and ‘private’ isn’t exactly how our weddings tend to be. And they want to see who their King’s Consort is.”

Thorin massaged his temple. “You’re insane. No. The people do _not_ need to see Ori. Dis, please?”

Dis sighed. “Fine. Fine. I will let them know we only need two boars and three kegs of beer.”

“Thank you.”

“But Fili is getting ten boars.”

“I will tell him to run for his life,” Thorin promised. “Maybe encourage him and Dúnris to elope.” Dis slapped the back of his head.

“You know, his coronation is the next morning,” Thorin reminded her. “The people will see him then.”

“That’s true. Wait…you’re separating the ceremonies?”

“And I shouldn’t?”

“It’s usually not done.” Dis nodded. “Interesting. I like it.”

#

Counting days was boring—or would be if not for the apprehension Thorin felt creeping on him as the wedding day neared. It wasn’t a _bad_ kind of apprehension. A more appropriate word would be “excitement,” but even that wasn’t quite accurate to what Thorin felt.

He wished he could do without the tailor taking measurements for his wedding attire, but unless he wanted to be poked to death by a needle held by Dis…

Well…it is said a picture is worth a thousand words.

“Durin blue velvet, gold trim, black breeches…” The tailor ticked off each of the different fabrics, writing on some parchment. He bade Thorin goodbye, promising his clothes would be ready in two days. He barely left the room when Fili and Kili ran in.

“Tell us she’s not going to throw a Middle Earth wide wedding party for Fili?” Kili said.

“I wouldn’t be able to survive that.”

“Middle Earth wide? That would expire the entire treasury. Besides she wanted to do that for mine and I put my foot down.”

“She’s insane.”

“You know her better than I do,” Thorin said, sitting down

“No we don’t,” Kili protested.

“You’re mother.”

“You’re sister,” the chorused.

“Uncle, she’s going crazy,” Fili said. “Can’t you stop her?”

“I wish. The last wedding this family hosted was hers. Now there’s two coming up. Can’t it wait until I’ve dealt with mine and then I’ll help you rein her in on yours?”

Fili sighed. “Fine, but I think she’s conspiring with Dúnris…”

“That would make sense. Dúnris most likely would have the final say.”

“ _Uncle!_ ”

#

 _Could you come by?_ The note read. _Ori’s panicking a little bit and I’m having a hard time calming him down.—Dori_

And now he stood outside the Ri’s house, wondering if he really could calm Ori’s nerves. He balled his hands into fists and rapped his knuckles on the door. It swung open almost immediately. Dori sighed, shoulders dropping.

“Thank goodness you’ve come!”

“Is everything all right?”

“Just a bit of cold feet, you know,” Dori said. “Bit responsibility, marriage. Add that to becoming the King’s Consort in a couple days, I’d say panicking is long overdue.” Thorin nodded. He could accept that. Dori knocked on a door. “Ori? Thorin’s here.” No answer. “I’m letting him in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine,” Dori said, opening the door. “Go on. I’ll check on you both in an hour.”

Thorin stepped into the room and the door closed behind him. There were tomes and paper everywhere, scattered on a writing desk and on the floor. Bottles of ink were lined up at the edge and there were several quills and a quill knife. On a shelf were a few figurines from around Middle Earth. He supposed Nori got them for Ori. Pushed under the window was a bed, a Dwarf shaped lump hid under the blankets.

Thorin sat on the bed. “Ori?” The lump shifted a little bit. Thorin pulled the layers back to reveal Ori’s head. “ _Ghivashel_ , what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Ori said, sitting up. His hands shook and he gripped his knees tightly. “I’m just feeling a little nervous. It’ll pass.” Thorin pulled him into his arms, petting his hair. “I really am fine. Dori’s overreacting. As usual. It happens. It’s normal to feel nervous before your own wedding, right?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. “It’s normal.”

“See? I’ll be okay. I just need to gather my wits. Right? I want to marry you, Thorin. I’m just…I guess…”

“Scared?” he asked. Ori nodded. “Dis was feeling the same as her wedding approached. It’s completely normal. But what exactly are you scared of, _mizimel_?”

Ori bit his lip. “I don’t know. Losing my independence, I suppose—which is ridiculous. I don’t have much independence as I would have liked as it is what with Dori’s mother-henning. But I suppose I feel marrying royalty would just…I don’t know.”

“I promise you won’t have guards underfoot. You can still work in the library. And you can visit your brothers. In fact, I do not want to think of what would happen if you neglected to see them.”

“True. That’s worse,” Ori said, smiling. “Dori would break down the gates. Nori would probably sneak in the middle of the night.”

“At bad times?” Thorin asked, smirking. “I doubt he’s as bad as my nephews.”

“Don’t underestimate Nori. If he can, he will come in while we’re having sex. Such is his luck. And mine.”

Thorin laughed. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure he’s properly scarred for life.”

“No!” Ori laughed, slapping Thorin’s chest. “Behave yourself. Dori’s still downstairs.”

“We could scar him too.”

“Do you want Dori to kill you? I’m quite convinced he would if he caught us having sex, king or not!”

“And ruin my fun?” Thorin asked, pushing Ori onto the mattress. He pinned Ori’s hands above his head.

“Do you want to die?” Ori asked. “I swear, I cannot control Dori when he’s angry. I will not be held responsible for your murder. Also, I will _not_ be widowed before the wedding, so _behave_ , Thorin Oakenshield!” Thorin pressed his mouth to Ori’s.

“Dori,” he whispered between kisses, “Will just have to accept that I’m going to ravish you properly. And that I _have_ ravished you before.”

Ori grinned, kissing him back, fingers lacing into Thorin’s hair and pulling it, swiping his tongue over Thorin’s lips—

“How is— _Thorin Oakenshield!!_ ”

#

He stood in the Great Hall, footsteps echoing off the stone.

“The doors will be opening soon, Thorin,” Balin said, approaching him. “And Ori’s ready when you are.”

He nodded, approaching the throne.

A fast courtship and small wedding to mend his broken heart. Only it wasn’t broken, was it? Just…fractured. Easy to fix. After all, a love unreturned cannot bear to fruition. Ori had mended Thorin, even if he didn’t think of it that way.

“I’m ready,” Thorin said. “Let them in.”

He stood in front of the throne, eyes ghosting over the nobles who entered. Kili entered with Dis, Fili followed with Dúnris.

Balin set the coronet—a gold crown with four points and a sapphire pressed into the front—on a pillow, and that was set on top of a small pillar beside the throne and he stood beside Thorin.

Fanfare blared off the walls and the doors opened. Four guards in ceremonial armor surrounded Ori as he approached Thorin. He wore black beneath a deep purple doublet. His marriage bead shone bright against his temple, easily noticed against his bright hair.

Balin led Ori through his vows before instructing him to kneel. Thorin lifted the coronet off the pillow and placed it on Ori’s head in a way that would not snag at his hair. Ori stood, grinning at Thorin as he took his place beside him.

Cheers and trumpet blasts echoed off the wall.

Thorin kissed Ori’s hand. For now, everything was right.

~The End~


End file.
